The Eternal Ones
by Kaveryl35
Summary: Will Horton has always lived in the town of Salem. But for as long as he can remember, he has experienced visions of a past life as a boy named William, whose love for another boy called Jackson ended in fiery tragedy. One day, the sight of notorious gay playboy Sonny Kiriakis on television brings Will to his knees. Will flees to New York City to find Sonny.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! So, my name's Jackson (I know lol) and this is my first fanfic - and let me just say that unfortunately it's not really a "fanfic" because it's almost an adaptation of a great book I've just finished reading a few months ago. I've always been into the whole "reincarnation" idea, and I've actually read a few Wilson (greatest couple on TV. Ever.) fanfics around reincarnation, so I just put three and three together, and this is the result. I'll be updating every now and then, because it's (I guess) easier to do than an original story. For those interested, the original book's name is "The Eternal Ones". Thank you :)**

**Please review :)**

_Will was back. He started to glance at the already familiar bedroom. Silver clouds floated over the skylight above a wrinkled bed. A candle in the edge of the nightstand waited for the last remaining sunbeams to fade away. His sight turned to the mirror in front of him. He fixed some of his short blonde hair. The reflection in the mirror was not his, but he knew it as well as his own. The big blue eyes looked like an entire ocean against delicate crystal. The smiling lips were making a red cupid arch. Once again he saw a strong hand make its way to his shoulder. Will felt it like silk grazing his body._

_The young man in the mirror was waiting. A clock on top of a chimney had stopped at five to six. Time had reduced to nothing._

_Outside, the fall wind growled. Trees creaked in the park, the one which, for some reason, he knew was not more than a block away. The crackling fire had lessened the cold of the night. But the young man didn__'t need its heat._

_He heard the sounds coming from downstairs – women's heels stepping on the frozen floor. With his heart beating loudly, he ran towards the balcony. He looked through the velvet curtains. A floor below him, through a narrow and charming path, two women dressed in fur coats were walking by, arm in arm. The shape of their hats and the style of their shoes hadn't been in style for over almost a hundred years. They didn't stop, and the boy sighed in relief when they finally got out of sight. The last thing he needed was his mother visiting him on their first night alone, together._

_ His eyes flew to the structure of a skyscraper that was being built on the horizon, then they turned back again, to the street. A mysterious figure had drown itself on the path. The young man's breathing had accelerated when the figure stopped in front of his door and looked shyly to both sides of the street. He heard a key fit inside the keyhole downstairs, and then, low footsteps going up to the second story. _

_ In just an instance, he was in his room, coat and hat in his hands. Disheveled brown hair. Sparkling brown eyes. An old-fashioned suit with slightly worn out cuffs. He received him at the door and put his arms around his neck. He let the suit drop to the floor so his cold hands could meet the base of his warm back. Then, their moist lips met each other. He pressed against him, feeling the heat raise under all the layers of wool and cotton._

–_I've waited an eternity – Will said._

–_I'm here now – he whispered, running his hands through the other's body._

–_Jackson – he whispered, while the room filled with a blinding glow._

* * *

Will Horton was standing in front of a blank canvas while trying to look through an open window in front of him. He could see the winter in the horizon, expectation had built inside of him. But once he weather calmed down, he was unable to sleep or stay still. It looked like every single cell in his body was dancing.

Something else was waiting for him outside of Salem, and his impatience had turned almost unbearable. He felt like jumping through the window, confident in the air holding him over the trees and placing him just where he was supposed to be. The only thing that was keeping him bound to earth was Chad's hand, handing him the missing paints.

–Will, come and find the remote control!

The squeaky voice of his grandmother shattered his concentration. Will tumbled for a moment and then went downstairs.

–Wow, Will! Since when are you so clumsy?

He heard something hit the floor and he saw some newly splattered pain on Chad's converse sneakers.

–Oh! Your new sneaks, I told you to change out of them. Too bad. _–_he ruffled his friend's longish brown hair_–_ I'll be right back. Marlena always sits on the remote. Most likely it's already buried in her butt cheeks.

–Want me to get the shovel?_ –_ Chad joked. He rose to his full six feet four and offered Will a wicked smile, unaware of the fact that he was only a few inches away from the ceiling fan.

–Keep it down! _– _Will commanded laughing, while he opened his room's door_–. _Do you want them to permanently forbid your entry?

His bare feet hitting the floor as he walked. He liked to put all his weight in each step, making his grandmother annoyed at the loud sound. After coming down the stairs and approaching the kitchen, his mother got out of the kitchen, swapping her hands in her apron, and shaking her head at him in signal of a quiet plea for him to not make that noise. Will lightened his steps so his feet stepped more softly. Annoying his grandmother was one of the pleasures he'd had to forget. Four months of good behavior are a small price to pay for his freedom. In September he would get into Columbia University in New York and mayor in Art, besides he would be a few hundred thousand miles away from Salem.

* * *

The living room's curtains were shut, and even the flowery wallpaper looked grey in the shade. Marlena Evans was sitting in a couch lined with silk, rigid at the back and legs crossed at the ankles. Just out of the beauty parlor, she was wearing a puffed up look in her silver-colored hair that was now floating a few various inches over her head. Will stood in the hallway where he let his eyes wander through the room, looking for anything out-of-place. A dead flower hidden in a rose bouquet, or a now low pantyhose in his grandma's leg. He saw the stain that he had left in the mirror above the chimney _–_a perfectly shaped fingerprint in the upper-right corner_–,_ and he barely laughed. It was a game between them, and this time, Will was winning.

_–_Any news? _–_ the old lady asked, with the melodious voice she would use to set up her traps.

_–_No, grandma.

_–_Is that boy still here?

_–_Chad _– _Will corrected.

_–_Excuse me?

The delicate hands of his grandmother reached the glasses on the little table next to her.

_–_His name is Chad.

_–I know…_ _– _putting her glasses on, the old lady looked at the young man_–_. What the hell do you have on, Will?

Will turned around to look at his low V-shaped, stained-with-paint shirt.

_–_Do you not like my new shirt? I was thinking about wearing it for church tomorrow.

Marlena Evans' eyes almost popped with outrage.

_–_No grandson of mine will ever present himself to the Lord wearing…!

_–_Relax, Marlena, it was a joke. It's just something I threw on while I'm working on a new painting for Mrs. Greene. _– _Will sighed and stuck his hand under the cushion that held the little and uptight woman. He pulled the remote out and turned on the TV_–. _Channel?

_–_Smartypants _–_castigated his grandmother_–. _Five o'clock newsflash.

Will pressed a couple of buttons and a well-known entertainment show host popped up on the screen.

_–_I think it's a bit early for news _–_he said _–_. Is that OK?

_–_Everything nowadays is that trash! _–_the old lady clucked_–_. Well, if there's nothing else, leave it, and turn up the volume.

Will watched as the volume bar raised.

"… and nineteen year old playboy came back to New York after just a few hours from the start of his father's funeral. Even though their relationship had estranged in the last few years, confidential sources tell us that…"

Will set his eyes on the screen. A handsome and tanned young man got out of a black Mercedes when a series of camera flashes began to crowd the car's windshield. For a moment, he held his eyes to the paparazzis, with an enigmatic face. Then, one of the sides of his lips curved into a smile.

_–_Jackson_ –_ Will babbled. A flame began to spread in the tip of his feet. While the fire began to spread, he felt his knees begin to bend.

* * *

A tornado of images turned into smoke when Will woke up. His eyes were still shut, and one of his legs was uncomfortably twisted beneath his body. He heard his mother and his grandmother whisper around her.

–We cannot let your son leave. _–_ Marlena insisted.

–But this hasn't happened in years!

His mother sounded scared.

–You were not there, Sami. You didn't hear what he said. It's all starting over again.

**To be continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

The Evans house was set in a wide platform covered by grass and nestled against the hill of a mountain. Two stories high, with a petty dungeon that could have held one or two princesses captive, was the signature mark that all the kids would look for when at the town. In the morning, the house's white walls would shine under the sun, and the crimson roof looked like a blazing fire coming from the house. Once the sun went down, while the house rested under the shadow, the magic of the Evans house turned dark. Even at twilight, when the windows showed lights, it could not look any less appealing.

A little bit after ten in the morning, Will dragged a garden chair to the edge of the land. He adjusted his big and round sunglasses and took off his shirt, revealing his chiseled physique, that was very well-known over the town, for every girl there would begin drooling when exposed to it. The fabric of his bright blue shorts was the perfect contrast to his pale, ivory skin. Sometimes he'd consider just taking those off too, as he referred, just like the Lord would have wanted.

At the hill's summit, well below his grandmother's magnificent house, Salem laid. Two hundred years after Will's ancestors had founded it, the town still looked like nothing more than a short strand of land with lots of stores that barely sold anything actually worthwhile. But delusion of greatness were still found at his family. For Marlena Evans, who refused to move any further than their current state, Salem was nothing less than the Earth's core. That and occasional nudity were two of lots of topics he and his grandmother would never meet eye to eye.

While the church's bells tolled down on the valley, Will let himself drop on the chair and popped open a sketch book. He bit the tip of the pencil, trying to concentrate in the image leaning against his knees: a toned male body in an emerald green shirt. He was trying to find inspiration for the multiple painting requests he had gotten since he announced he would be now selling all his creations – Will was extremely talented, everyone that knew art, knew that he was talented, and those who didn't know art, thought he was extraordinary. For his part, Will just liked painting, he liked to draw and paint anytime, especially when he was with his best friend and fellow artist, Chad DiMera. The two of them were well-known as the artsy guys in Salem High, and they were now getting a lot of orders from lots of people for any work of art to, most likely, showcase it in their houses.

Will studied the sketch he had drawn the day before. It was another boy, a blonde guy, but he was wearing a very old-fashioned suit and hat. When drawing it, he kinda felt like he knew that suit. The same would happen whenever he would drawn this blonde guy, or any guy for that matter. He had to deal with the déjà vu, and try to remember where could he have seen this suit. But whenever he closed his eyes and try to focus, the only thing he'd see was the guy from TV. He didn't know how, but he was sure that he knew him. When the guy looked at the camera, it looked as if he was looking for him, for Will.

Something stirred in Will's stomach, and he caressed his taut belly to calm it down. He didn't have the slightest clue as to how much his collapse had caused. After that he had felt too tired to apologize. Chad carried him to bed, where Will woke up sixteen hours later, ashamed about losing control and scared at his grandmother's stare. When he realized the house was empty ––his fellow housemates were already at church––, he knew he had to brace himself.

––I assume they decided not to have you committed just yet.

Will lifted his shades to the top of his blonde head and open slightly his eyes under the sun. Chad DiMera was walking through the garden. Still with a very toned body from football season, he moved with a rarely found grace in boys his size. Chad smiled the smile that made half the women in this town curse fate.

––Cover up, man! You cannot be exposing yourself like that for everyone to see.

––As if ––Will smiled and put his shirt back on––. And it doesn't seem as if anyone else is lining up to see me without my shirt on. Why aren't you at church?

Chad kneeled next to the chair and contemplated the town.

––I decided to give myself a week off from their attempts to save me from you. Did you know that there were places where they make people like you change? Where they teach people to be "productive members of society"?

––Productives to knock up Salem's girls and breed until death? ––Will asked, making Chad plop from the laughter––. But anyway, today you cannot stay long. It's probable that Marlena brings Dr. Carver after the service. What do you think if I give them a show? Teach them a lesson.

For some reason, Chad always knew when to stop laughing.

––Do you think they'll get the minister? Is it that bad?

Will gravely nodded.

––They haven't let me skip church since I got pneumonia in eighth grade. Who knows what happened last night while I was K.O.

––What did you last see? Do you remember?

Will laid back down.

––I couldn't even if I tried. I was sitting in a room, waiting for Jackson. And then he came, and… Oh god! Please don't let me have said anything inappropriate in front of Marlena!

Chad stretched and squeezed his hand.

––I thought you'd learn years ago how to not black out. How long has it been since the last time it happened?

––This Tuesday ––Will answered, in a low voice.

––What? Come on Will! Why didn't you tell me?

––I didn't want it to get out of control. I've seen the same image every once in a while for a few weeks now. Seems like I can't stop the visions anymore. And to be frank, I'm not so sure I want to ––he paused while the memory of the kiss went by his mind, followed by an anxiety wave––. It felt real, Chad. Almost as if I was really there. I think I'm losing it now.

––No, you're not ––he insisted, like a doctor to an hysteric patient––. Let's try and analyze you. Do you have any idea what's causing the visions? What were you doing yesterday when you fainted?

––Nothing much. There was this TV gossip show. They were talking about some New York rich boy whose father had died. He must have had me remember Jackson.

––Let me guess. Enigmatic and unsettling. Tall, dark and handsome?

––How'd you know? –– Will babbled.

Chad's smile was nothing short of wicked.

––Well, after so many years of not showing any interest in any guy. Who would have thought that out and proud Will Horton would fall for the man of the hour. Your mystery guy is named Sonny Kiriakis.

––How'd you know?

––Oh come on Will! The internet's only useful for two things. Gossip being one of them. The guy you're talking about hasn't stopped popping tabloids for the last few months.

* * *

Will let a pile of celebrity magazines drop to the coffee table. Chad grabbed the top one and started to read it.

––Wow, so this is your mom's stash? Why does she keep it hidden? ––Chad asked.

––And risk Marlena's wrath? ––Will taunted––. She says these are Satan's daily. My mom doesn't even read it in front of Marlena. If she were to stumble upon me with a copy of the National Enquirer, I wouldn't be here to tell.

––Well, Mr Horton, let's see if we can put this Satan's on Demand to good use. Let's see ––Chad flipped the magazine to show it to Will––. Hopefully this'll work.

––Is it really necessary? ––Will grunted, reluctant to look at the page. No matter how much pleasure his visions gave him, it wasn't worth the public humiliation of fainting.

––We're trying to reach a diagnosis ––Chad sentenced, with pretend seriousness––. Either you're getting hormone intoxication or you're irreparably crazy. Wouldn't you like to know which it is?

––You know what Marlena's gonna think of this.

Even tough Will loathed bringing up his grandmother's theory on his visions, they couldn't allow themselves to avoid it forever.

Chad didn't listen to Will's suggestion.

––I've already diagnosed you're grandmother. I'm afraid she's at a fatal stage of one of the most feared illnesses in the world –– The Old Bitch Disease. Would you now look at the freaking picture!

He shook the magazine in front of him.

Will leaned in to study the picture. Sonny Kiriakis had a face which you would typically find chiseled in marble, looking over explorers at ancient ruins or shipwrecks. Straight nose, high cheekbones, angular jaw, longish and deliciously messy brown hair and lips in a permanent grin. It could have been perfect had it not been for the brown eyes that were killing the photographer. Will realized he had seen Sonny Kiriakis before. His face had popped up in every magazine in the supermarket.

––What you do think? ––Chad casually inquired.

––He's beyond hot.

Will stopped looking at the mag and got scared when he saw his reflection in the mirror, at the other side of room. For a while there he was almost incapable to recognize his face, delicate straight nose, bright blue eyes, short dark blonde hair. He wasn't stunning, at least to himself, but he acknowledged he was somewhat attractive. An acquired taste, Chad liked to say, but until now, nobody had ever tasted it. Will was satisfied with his looks.

––He's alright ––Chad said, nodding his head slightly––. But why not go beyond the obvious? Do you feel anything with this picture?

––No ––Will admitted, with a mixture of relief and disappointment––. Absolutely nothing.

––Really? Man you're cold. Even I'm willing to admit that that dude is hot. But anyway, let's see what its being said about Mr Kiriakis. Let's see.

Chad started reading the article, following the paragraph with his finger. He cleared his throat:

––OK. Here it says that Sonny's father, Justin Kiriakis, inherited a fortune from his father, Greek entrepreneur Victor Kiriakis. Sonny got it all when his father died, a few days ago. Nobody knows exactly how much. His parents were split, and her mother lives in Italy. They don't really get along. People speculated that it had something to do with Sonny being gay, but after some sort of interview, Adrienne Johnson said that it had nothing to do with her son's sexuality, rather with much more personal issues. It seems as though, Sonny was some kind of bad seed. He got expelled from multiple schools.

––You got all that from a tabloid?

Will felt like he had parachuted directly on top of a stranger's life. He already knew more about Sonny Kiriakis' life than about any other fellow salemite.

––Yeah, terrible, right? But wait, here's where it all turns weird: remember that musician that disappeared a few months ago?

––What musician? ––Will asked––. I told you I don't read this crap.

Chad looked up from the magazines, amused at Will's innocence. He knew each of his flaws, and he knew that Will wasn't one for gossip.

––It was on the papers, Will. Don't be such a critic. Whatever, this is the musician. His name was Christopher Moore ––Chad gave Will a picture of the skinny boy with a brown rag as hair and a lost facial expression. In his forearm he had a tattoo of a snake biting its own tail––. He was a singer. They say he was very good. He disappeared after a concert in L.A. That was a few months ago. No one has seen him since.

––And what does that have to do with Sonny Kiriakis?

––He was the last person to see Christopher alive.

––So?

––So nothing ––Chad said––. But the thing is that Sonny and Christopher weren't exactly friends. And it's well-known that Sonny's kind of a player. Rumor has it that Christopher and him fought over something – or someone. People started to wonder what they were doing together the night Christopher disappeared.

––They think this Sonny guy killed Christopher Moore?

––Nah. Actually, no one believes that. It's just a coincidence. But also a juicy piece of meat for the tabloids ––Chad paused––. Anything working for ya?

Will glanced at a dozen pictures, in each, Sonny was featured with a different guy. There wasn't anything familiar in the beautiful face of the young man or his strange story. But every time Will remembered Sonny's smiling on TV, his heart seemed to race.

––I don't know ––he answered.

Chad opened his mouth to say something, but everything that came out was an exhausted sigh. No matter how much he did to help, Will and him only knew just how complicated the situation would get. Marlena Evans would be soon back from church, and there was enough time to draw some final conclusions.


	3. Chapter 3

Will and Chad had revised every single page of the tabloid until Marlena's car parked at the entrance. There were still magazines laying everywhere on the floor, and while the engine of the Cadillac ceased to sound, Will did everything he could to take them to his mom's room.

Two car doors were shut closed, and they heard heels at the entrance.

––Why is _he_ always here?

When Marlena Evans didn't bother to speak lowly, Will knew that the minister had remained at the church. Some less than admirable qualities to his grandmother were reserved to her close ones.

––Please! ––Will's mom tried to get her to lower her voice––. He'll hear you.

––We're in _my_ property, Sami ––Marlena pointed out to her full voice––. I'll say what I please.

––Don't go ––Will plead Chad, who was now picking up his stuff––. We haven't worked at all and we have to showcase tomorrow to Mrs. Greene.

––Then maybe we should work tonight at my place, ––the guy straightened and put on a smile––. Mrs. Evans. Mrs. Brady ––he said opening the front door and letting both women pass, the youngest dragged the oldest like a shadow.

––Hello, Chad ––Will's mom couldn't hide her embarrassment, and her forced smile looked more like a smirk––. Do you have to go just yet? I was thinking about making something for dinner.

Marlena glared at her daughter.

––Let the boy leave, Sami. We have family stuff to discuss.

––I appreciate the invitation, ma'am ––Chad said, solemnly pretending not having heard the old lady––. But I have to go. Maybe my dad's already hungry. How's six for you, Will?

––Sure.

Will gave a weak smile, fearing what would come next.

As soon as the door closed, Will's grandmother turned to him.

––Will, would you come with me to the living room? Excuse us, Sami.

None of those phrases were actually questions. Will looked at his mother, stunned by doubt, trying to decide if this was a battle worth fighting for. But Will knew it was worthless waiting for his mother to jump to battle. Sami Brady could stay weeks paralyzed.

* * *

Will and his grandmother seated in their usual seats. Marlena Evans seated in her high couch with arm rests, with the usual scrunched nose and posture worthy of a ferret. Will sunk in the middle of the soft sofa.

––Do you really think that, for someone in your condition, it's a good idea to waste your time with that DiMera boy?

Will snorted and shook his head, a little relieved that they were still in known grounds.

––First of all, Marlena, he's not gay. We've been through this. He's. Not. Gay. And what condition do you speak of? Me being gay? What, are you afraid that I'll turn him?

Marlena furrowed her brows.

––You're not good, Will.

––I feel perfectly fine.

––You know that I'm not talking about that. Remember what you said during your episode?

He didn't remember.

––You said "Jackson".

Will tried not to give in to panic, but he felt like warming up again, and he knew that soon the crimson spots would appear in his cheeks. It was impossible to escape from his grandmother.

––When did you start to get the visions again?

––I haven't had any. I just fainted, that's all.

––Don't lie, Will! I always catch you. And I will not allow you to go to college if you see and hear…

––But, grandm…!

––Don't interrupt me! I spoke to Dr Carver after the service. I want you him to see if this can be stopped before it goes overboard. I'm afraid you'll have to stay with us for a little while.

––But, grandma! ––Will begged, with rising despair. At the edge of his seat, his knees banged the coffee table and the vase on top of it almost fell. I swear that nothing's wrong! I've always fainted. It was just a mishap. You cannot stop me from going to college this fall.

––I cannot let you leave, Will. You're not strong enough to handle it. Sins of the flesh are a constant temptation.

Will interlaced his hands under his legs to stop himself from throwing the vase to Marlena.

––So they say ––he gritted. As time went by, he had heard various stories about his grandmother's less-than-honorary adventures before she found the Lord. The six month time-span between his grandparent's wedding and the birth of his mother seemed to verify that. But Will had never joined the courage to bring this up to his grandmother.

––What was that?

––Nothing ––Will responded, nonplussed.

––I thought so ––Marlena said––. You're your father's son, Will. And you already know what happened to him when he wasn't able to resist the demon that is lust. I'm sorry, but it is my duty to protect you.

She wasn't sorry. That was quite clear. Will stood and looked at the old lady.

––Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to hold me here? ––he asked, with a low and firm voice.

––Look at yourself in the mirror, Will, and tell me if I need an excuse.

Reluctantly, Will turned to the mirror above the chimney. The heat had reached his neck, and he saw that it was starting to reach his cheeks. However, somehow, he managed to see something else, vaguely, a hand, at his shoulder. A warm hand that for some unknown reason made him feel like caressing it with his cheek.

––Tomorrow morning I'm going to that Columbia college. They'll give us our money back once we tell them you're sick. And need I remind you, Will, that I'm your legal tutor. Until you turn eighteen, you're under my responsibility.

Ten more months for Will's eighteenth birthday.

* * *

Down, on the city, half a dozen cars and pickup trucks had converged into a gas station. Young people that were still wearing their Sunday clothes were driving around the parking lot, sipping beer in brown paper bags and with cigarettes in hand. It was a Sunday tradition in Salem. Later that day, once the sun had gone down behind the mountains, you'd see those same vehicles driving around Horton Town Square. Even though he could see everything through his window, Will had never participated in these rituals. He pretended that he didn't care, but the truth was that nobody would invite him.

Somewhere in the crowd was Gabi Hernandez, the girl responsible for making Will an outcast six years ago. Will and Gabi had actually been best friends when they were little, Will thought of Gabi as his sister, however, Gabi always wanted more. She wanted to be more than just friends with Will. The problem was that Will always knew who he was, since he was a child he knew that he didn't like girls that way, and once Gabi opened herself up and told Will about her attraction to him, he responded in truth. He told her that he would usually dream about a boy named Jackson, a boy he missed more than anything in the world, a boy he felt immense love for. Will saw the confusion, the anger and the resentment in Gabi's eyes once he told her the truth and he rejected her feelings. In the moment, Will realized he should've listen to Marlena and never talk about this things with anyone. But he didn't stop, being the first time he talked about this with anyone outside his family, he kept going about his visions.

No one said anything to his face, after all, he was Marlena Evans' grandson. But sleepover invitations ceased, friendly greets stopped and hang outs dulled. Other kids would whisper about him behind his back, they would say he was weird, he was different. Even adults would say he was crazy.

Thanks to Marlena, Will started to spend two of her afternoons a week in Dr Carver's office. His father opposed, but his mother caved, in hope that the new minister would help them understand the things Will would say. Anxious to fit in the community, Dr Carver had gained the hearts and minds of the people in Salem. His blazing lectures would remind old citizens of the things they heard in their youth, and it was a testament to Carver's popularity, that just a few months after his arrival nobody seemed to care that he was a _yankee_.

Tall and awkward, with a sparse lock of red hair and a face with nose that made up for his lack of chin, Dr Carver sat at his desk, doodling silently while Will talked. Below the soapbox, he was nice with a sweet voice, and it wasn't long before he talked Will into repeating the words that were causing so many issues.

When he did, he seemed nonplussed. Will guessed the minister would start screaming or start praying. Actually, he stood up calmly and walked around his desk to give Will a comforting tap on the shoulder. And when he collapsed in tears of relief and shame, the tap became a hug.

––I'm sorry you have to go through such hard times ––Dr Carver said once he wiped Will's tears away––. According to what I've heard about you, I can assure you, you're a very special boy. And special people aren't always appreciated in a town such as Salem. But hear my words, Will. One day you'll find a place where they'll admire you for being different. I know for sure that you have a fabulous life ahead of you, _if_ we put these visions of yours to an end.

––Why do I see this things? ––Will asked.

––I don't know ––Dr Carver admitted––. But it is a fact that you're visions aren't good nor sane. Nonetheless, what you are feeling is perfectly understandable, it's fine, Will. Being who you are is fine. Staying true to who you are and being proud about it. So, we aren't gonna let a simple blackout to get in the way of our path to a wonderful future now, are we Will?

––I guess not ––he murmured reluctantly, looking down at the ground. He didn't want to stop seeing Jackson, for some reason, he loved him. But he guessed, it's what had to be done.

––Oh, come on! ––the minister exclaimed, taking him by the chin and lifting his head so their eyes would meet––. Why are you so down? I'm here to help you! So tell me Will. Can I help you?

––Yes, you can ––he answered, feeling the most optimistic he'd felt like in years.

Will's grandmother hadn't been satisfied at the caring style with which Dr Carver approached Will's problem. Days later she emitted her own verdict. Will was a victim of the devil, she proclaimed to whomever was willing to listen, and her grief was sign of that. An innocent boy like him shouldn't have attracted such a powerful enemy. The sins of the father had brought this onto her. Marlena instructed the town to pray for him. But she warned that if anyone were to do something against him, they'd have to face her. This of course, had the whole town on check, no one messed with Marlena Evans' commands. So, naturally, everyone bowed down when Marlena said that Lucas Horton had given Satan pass to his son's heart.

Then and there was the time at which Will started to hear rumors about Nicole Walker. This woman was a cashier at his father's hardware store, a busty lady that gave him candies when his father wasn't looking. During the hours she had spent at the store, Will had seen Nicole laughing loudly to his dad's bad jokes. And he had seen Nicole's eyes follow his dad while he was walking by. Everyone in Salem could tell that Nicole Walker had it bad for Will's dad.

––Nicole likes you ––Will had told his father to bug him while he drove him to school.

––Does she? ––Lucas Horton answered very surprised at the statement ––. What makes you think that?

––She looks at you like she wants to eat you.

––Really? ––his father said after letting go of a loud chuckle––. Well, I'm completely sure that you're imagining things, champ. Besides, Nicole is too smart for that. Everyone knows I'm a happily married man.

* * *

Now, at nights, after laying down, Will would listen to the sounds of his father arguing with his mother, who would start crying. She knew about what people would say about him and Nicole. Even though his father swore his innocence, the whole town had sided against him. The scandal made Nicole flee Salem in shame, and very few people would still frequent the Horton's store. They would drive to Unicoi for a box of nails or a bucket of paint. Money was scarce and bills needed paying. And thanks to Marlena Evans, everyone in town thought that Lucas Horton's sins had driven Satan to Salem.

Once in a dark, dark house, Will started to practice how to control his visions. The first night he heard his parents argue, he sighed a quite last goodbye to Jackson and threw him out of his head. He learned how to empty his mind just when he felt the heat starting at his feet. He would fight it every day, and would get down on his knees praying for them not to come back.

Will tried really hard to rush his healing so that the devil wouldn't tear his family apart. In time, his other world would begin to disappear until it was completely gone. He had almost completely forgotten the beautiful features of Jackson's face until one afternoon, coming back from school, he found Marlena packing at his house packing his stuff into a suitcase. Lucas Horton had died, and her mother had disappeared. Marlena was awarded custody of Will, and the boy would have to move in with his grandmother. This would kick off Will's cycle of loneliness, no friends, no family but his obnoxious grandmother, and worst of all, no Jackson.


	4. Chapter 4

In the months after his father's death and his mother's disappearance, Will developed the intriguing habit of spying on the neighbors of Salem. He would hide behind a bush while Mr Black mowed the lawn, or he would sit in a branch of the tree outside Ms Lane's living room while the woman watched soap operas on TV. He knew that Mrs. McGuiness, who claimed a glandular problem, hid her _Milky Ways_ in an empty detergent box. And he had seen young Mr Kennedy visit his brother-in-law, at 11 o'clock while his wife was away on business – all possible doubts were eased when the light coming from the master bedroom was turned off. But it weren't just people's secrets that interested Will. He suspected that they changed when he wasn't looking ––the face they wore in public was taken off when left alone––, and he wanted nothing more than to witness the precise moment in which they showed their true self.

He had to quit his new hobby when his mother came back to Salem. He had lots to do while taking care of Sami Brady. He knew that his mother had been rushed to the hospital when she found out her husband had died in a car accident. In Sami's absence, Will was informed that her mother had a heart condition, Marlena told him that very rapidly and very serenely, as if she were anxious to forget the matter. Will didn't need to ask to know that he wasn't allowed to visit her. He would picture his mother laid in a hospital bed, connected to cables and IVs while she came around her stroke. But when Sami finally walked through the front door of Marlena's house, Will knew that her body was working perfectly. It was something inside of Sami Brady that was now broken.

Will would cook for her twice a day, and sit next to her while she just stared at her oatmeal or her scrambled eggs with empty eyes. Finally, Sami began to grab the fork. Then she started talking again. But the real Sami ––the one that laughed and danced and sung while she cooked–– never came back. She accept the financial support her wealthy mother had offered, and she even agreed to let Marlena keep guardianship of Will. With no husband, responsibilities or job to keep her busy, Sami Brady turned in no more than a ghost, doomed to haunt the house she had once ran away from with Lucas Horton.

Practically an orphan, Will deposited his trust in the only person he had left: Dr Carver. Although no longer out of obligation, he kept visiting his office after classes. Usually he would take his most recent drawings, and Carver would diligently check them before announcing, yet again, the great future Will was in store for. Sometimes he'd ask him if he had had any visions, but he would always assure him he hadn't – Will decided to keep the random _rendezvous_ with the handsome young man he dreamed of. Then they would talk about the world beyond Salem. Dr Carver had grown up just north of New York, and he liked to tell stories about his college days back there. Will was surprised to discover that he knew it when the minister would mix up the streets in Greenwich Village or if he would mess up the metro stations, but he was careful not to correct him.

After each visit, Will would leave Dr Carver's office with the feeling that there was something beyond the mountains waiting for him. Once the minister had given Will a postcard: an air-view of Manhattan, with its dazzling concrete jungle. Will placed that in the wall of his room, and he would study it every night before going to bed. Behind one of those many windows there was somebody looking for him, and somebody he had to look for. Sometimes the need to kick off his search were almost impossible to resist. When he was ten years old, Will began the countdown of the days. When he'd turn eighteen ––time in which nobody would be able to stop him––, he'd go in search for what was waiting for him among the skyscrapers.

* * *

Even with the town's priest in his side, those would have been eight lonely years for Will had it not been for Chad DiMera's appearance at the school's cafeteria with a Barbie lunchbox. He was by then one of the most popular boys in school; so handsome, even at that age, that most girls would blush and giggle nervously when he looked their way. Everyone knew that Chad's family were going through a rough patch. His clothes had been in style years ago, and they were mostly mended inheritances from his older cousins. But the Barbie lunchbox was something else, it was a real treasure. Chad's mom, originally, pictured her pregnant belly to become a little girl, so the first thing she bought in a maternal rush was the "it" Barbie product, a pink lunchbox, it goes without saying that her prediction was a fake one, since Chad was born all man. So, his mother just contemplated returning the lunchbox, but Chad's dad –– EJ –– refused, he said that that was the first thing she bought for their child, so no way would they return it. And so they kept it, and now that a few weeks ago, Chad's old "Batman" lunchbox had been crushed accidentally by a few kids playing dodgeball, he had no repair in using the lunchbox his mother bought him when he wasn't even born yet. Chad was that much of a man, not afraid to use a pink Barbie lunchbox. Other kids, however, thought something was wrong, even though most didn't know what it was. Comments were being made. Will heard the word _fag_. Somebody shoved somebody. And then all hell broke loose.

Chad knocked down three older kids with precise hooks before some seventh graders got mixed into the fight. When teachers split the fight up, Chad's face was bloodied. While the fighters were being escorted towards the Principal's office, Will dragged himself over the spilled milk and stepped on food to rescue the Barbie lunchbox underneath the table. He rinsed it under a water tap, dried it with some paper and fixed the dents so it would look better.

When EJ got to school to pick his son up from the Principal's office, Will waited. He gave the tall guy with a black eye and dried blood in the sides of his lips the lunchbox. He smiled when he took it, and Will's heart started to beat for the first time in months. Having done whatever he'd done –– and Will couldn't understand it–– Chad DiMera wasn't embarrassed.

* * *

Ever since then, Will and Chad became inseparable, and Will's friendship with Dr Carver slowly faded away. The minister would advice Will to keep his distance from Chad, something about temptation and being a bad seed. But Will never caved. After having found Chad, he wasn't willing to let go. He loves him like a brother, he was his first real friend in such a long time, and one true and loyal friend. By that time, almost everyone knew about Will's sexuality, however, this was eclipsed by his "hallucinations", and, you guessed it, Chad was completely OK with everything that was Will, he didn't understand it completely, but he still loved his best friend. Despite the attraction barrier, they would still talk about boys and girls, each trying to give the best kind of insight, so this was never an issue.

But still, something was missing. Something that haunted Will, a hollow that he couldn't explain. There were mornings in which he would wake up with his heart beating strongly and the feeling of strong arms softly surrounding her. But that feeling would quickly fade away once he opened his eyes; and no matter how quickly he'd squeeze them shut again, he wouldn't get that joy back.

In ninth grade, he saw that most kids would begin to form couples, even Chad had found a girl, Mia, she was a great one, and she actually became Will's friend too. However it was a complete shock to both of them when out of the blue, Mia moved away due to his father earning a job overseas. Chad had been so depressed for months, and of course, Will didn't nothing else than to be there for his best friend. Well, anyways, it seemed as though Will was the only one to not have a partner. And it was not out of lack of fans. In his sophomore year of high school, Bradley Sutton, a freshman who had recently come out started to follow Will with obvious interest in his eyes, he knew that it was already time to feel close to another person like that –– a kiss, tops. But he rejected him. He knew that there was someone out there for him, but whoever it was, it was undoubtedly not a student at Salem High.

With no social life to speak of, Will had found the free time to dedicate himself fully to the small business he had started with Chad –– his best friend whom he discovered had also a vein for art, Chad dedicated more towards painting; Will, to drawing. For their surprise and relief, it had a successful start. Because he had promised his mother before her untimely demise, Chad needed the money. Will had his own reasons. He told Marlena that we would put in for his college education in New York. But the truth was that he would need the money for when the time in which his destiny would be revealed to him came.

When the visions returned, Will knew that the time was near. He would check up on his bank accounts from time to time, to make sure that his savings that rose to no less than twelve thousand dollars were safe and sound at Citizen Bank. Now, thanks to Marlena, they would stay there for a little longer.

* * *

The door to his room screeched when it opened, and timid footsteps crossed the room.

––I have something for you, Will.

Spread across the bed with his eyes shut, Will was reluctant to acknowledge his visitor. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that it was his mother. It was her usual behavior that made good people want to protect her, and bad people, kick her.

––I know you're mad about school and all. But I think you'll like to see this. ––Sami Brady said, this time very softly. Will opened his eyes and saw a shoebox in his mother's hands.

––What is it?

Will sit up in the bed.

His mother sat next to him. She was chapped and her eyes glowed. For the first time in years, she almost looked alive. Her hands were caressing the box as if it were human skin.

––Something Lucas did a while ago. I brought it with us when we moved in here. My mom doesn't know. But I think it's time for you to take a look.

Will felt his skin tingle. Sami Brady had mentioned her husband a handful of times since his death. Hearing his name out loud was like hearing someone summon a spirit.

When Will was little, and while his father was at work, his mother had told him countless stories. How she met his dad on his first day in Salem. How they ran away together three weeks later, young and broke, and madly in love. How he slaved himself fifteen hours a day to get the money to open up his business. To Will it wasn't surprising that the hero in all of his mom's stories was always his dad. Through his mother eyes, Lucas Horton was the image of perfection itself, the knight in shining armor that had rescued her from the hands of the evil witch, and the one that she was meant to spend the rest of her live with _happily ever after_.

The stories wore out after Lucas' death. But Will always wondered if Sami Brady kept telling herself those stories at night, when she thought no one could listen to her.

* * *

Sami Brady slid the box on Will's lap. At the beginning, fearful to even touch it, the boy left it there for a moment, it was heavy as granite. It was dirty and stained on the outside, and when Will looked inside, he discovered it was filled with papers. Ripped notebook pages. Sheets of paper, folded copies. Scribbled words in gas station bills. On top of everything there was a folded piece of paper that read: O.S. Will unfolded it and found what looked like the draft of a letter. At the middle of the first line read: "_Jackson's not a doll. He's real"._

––Oh my god!

His eyes met his mother's. He instantly knew the risk Sami Brady was in.

––He would write it ––Sami whispered––. Everything you'd say. He never thought there was anything wrong with you.

––And you? ––Will asked his mother––. Do you think there's something wrong with me?

Sami Brady looked down at her hands.

––No ––she admitted––. I don't. And I think that after you look at all this, you won't either.

Will stared silently as her mother stood, ready to leave the room.

––I'm sorry, Will ––she said before she left––. I shouldn't have kept this from you for so long.

The door shut. Will's eyes went back to the box over his knees, and he pulled out a bunch of papers. Soon he began to remember everything he'd try to forget before.

* * *

[Draft of a letter dated December 7th, 2003]

_Ouroboros Society_

_17 Gramercy Park South_

_New York City, NY 10003_

_To whom it may concern:_

_Let me start out by saying I was born a christian and that I have never given thought to the whole past lives issue. But I'm not the kind of man that refuses to acknowledge what's staring him in the eyes._

_ Since he was little, my son, (and yes, everybody's well aware of my son's sexuality, but that's no issue at all) has spoken of someone named Jackson. The first time I caught him, I was walking by his room. The door was closed halfway and I heard him mumble. I remember that he was sitting on the floor with his favorite teddy bear in arms, he was speaking to someone that I couldn't see. His eyes looked focused, almost as if he was in some sort of trance. He'd say:_

_ ––Remember the time you kissed me by the fountain?_

––_What?_ ––_I asked, and Will jumped up as if he'd been caught doing something wrong––. Who are you speaking to?_

––_Jackson_

_ I thought that he was speaking to one of his dolls, which made him laugh._

––_Jackson's not a doll. He's real._

––_Well, if he's real. Where is he?_

––_Dead_ ––_he answered._

_Like you can imagine his response left me speechless. But Will had always been a little quirky, so I assumed he had some sort of imaginary friend until I finally asked him some questions. The first thing he told me was that he needed to look for that Jackson boy. When I asked him where he thought he'd be, he answered, very securely, that he would be in New York. He said he was waiting for him. He kept talking, and I realized that he knew many things he wasn't supposed to, like names of lots of Manhattan streets. No one in our family has ever been anywhere near New York, but when I looked up those names, everything was true. I wondered if maybe he was watching way too much TV. But some of the names of restaurants and stores he mentioned stopped existing in the late 20s. It was impossible he'd seen them in any TV show._

_ It was then that I started to consider the fact that Will was remembering a past life. I'm trying to keep record of our conversations. There hasn't been many until now. Will has always been stubborn, and he doesn't always answer my questions. But I've started to…_

The page ended there, and the rest was missing.

[Written at the back of a Cope's Gas and Mini Mart $9.00 ticket]

_ ––When did you meet your friend Jackson?_

_ ––A long time ago, when I was big._

_ ––You mean grown up?_

_ ––Yep._

_ ––And where did you meet him?_

_ ––At the Piazza Navona._

_ ––Is it somewhere in Italy?_

_ ––It's in Rome. I got lost. My mother and I were looking at the fountains, but she disappeared and I didn't know how to get back to my hotel._

_ ––Your mom Sami?_

_ ––No, silly! My other mom. My old mom._

_ ––What was her name?_

_ ––Elizabeth._

_ ––Elizabeth what?_

_ Will seemed disappointed, and I feared he would stop talking._

_ ––I don't remember right now._

_ ––And what was your name?_

_ ––William_

_ ––So you had the same name as now?_

_ ––Guess so_

_ ––OK, William. So you met Jackson in Italy?_

_ ––He met me at the piazza. He said he had been looking for me._

_ ––But I thought you were talking about when you met_

_ ––I am._

_ ––So you met him then, and he told you he'd been looking for you?_

_ ––Yep._

_ ––Did you feel scared?_

_ ––No, not at all._

_ ––What were you thinking?_

_ He smiled and blushed like he always did,_

_ ––That he was the most beautiful person I had ever seen_

[Written at the bottom of a chemistry test. Date on top: September 15th, 2005]

_ ––You told me you met your friend Jackson in Italy. Did you both live there?_

_ ––No. I lived in New York, next to a big lake in the park. We would row there._

_ ––Meaning Jackson and you?_

_ ––Yep_

_ ––So Jackson was also from New York?_

_ ––No, Dr Strickland took him to New York. There I found him when I came back from Rome. At Dr Strickland's house._

_ ––Dr Strickland? Why did Jackson need a doctor? Was he sick?_

_ ––No, daddy! Dr Strickland had some sort of people club that remembered stuff._

_ ––People that remembered stuff? What kind of stuff did they remember?_

_ ––Who they had been. How had they died. That kind of stuff._

_ ––The kind that you're remembering now._

_ ––Mhm_

_ ––And Jackson? What did he remember?_

_ ––Everything_

_ ––What do you mean with everything?_

_ ––Everything, dad._

[Page from a ripped notebook]

_ I had just woken up at four in the morning when I found Will with a suitcase filled with toys._

_ ––Where are you going?_

_ ––We're going back to Rome._

_ ––In the middle of the night?_

_ ––Tomorrow. After we get married._

_ ––You and Jackson?_

_ ––Yep._

_ ––I thought nobody could know about you two. How do you plan on doing that?_

_ ––Dr Strickland. He knows about us, he's going to help us._

_ ––So what's the plan?_

_ ––I don't know. I just know that we're going to be together forever. I'm guessing we're getting married._

_ ––So you're running away?_

_ ––We can't stay here!_

_ ––Why not?_

_ ––You know what people are saying about Jackson._

_ ––What?_

_ ––If you don't know, I won't tell you!_

_ And that was everything I was able to get out of him. Once he had finished filling his suitcase with toys he laid in bed and fell asleep instantly._

[Draft of an e-mail dated October 8th, 2005. No addressee. Second page's location unknown]

_This afternoon I took Will to Sami's mother's house. The boy that sweeps the leaves in her garden broke his legs, so I offered to do it. Will helped me for a while before he started jumping up and down everywhere. When I gathered all the leaves in one stock, I took a pair of branches and some marshmallows. I thought that Will and I could roast them while the fire burned._

_ I threw a lit match and the stock began to burn. Will was too close so I told him to back away, but he didn't. He stayed there, with his eyes fixed on the fire and a stare that really freaked me out. I was about to grab him when a braise hit his pants. It barely left a mark, but Will started screaming as if we were being burned alive. Later, he woke me up by poking me with his finger._

_ ––You smell smoke?_

_ ––Smoke?_

_ I thought that the house was on fire until I say the look on his eyes. He ran to the window and peaked out to the garden…_


	5. Chapter 5

Will was laying in bed with the last piece of paper squeezed by his hand and his head still spinning. Each of his father's notes had been like little bombs. Together they had blown up Will's reality. Suddenly she was no longer William Robert Horton, son of Lucas and Sami. If you took the notes as facts, he had been someone else, another person. A man also named William, but with surely a different last name. And her visions weren't fantasies, or hallucinations. They were scenes from a past as real as the present.

You'd have to get used to it. Will was sure that the world "reincarnation" had never been pronounced anywhere near him, not by his father not by anyone. He'd stumbled upon the word in books and what not, obviously, and he knew that it played a big role in mayor world religions. But he also knew that it didn't play any in his. Still, he had to admit, reincarnation was the most appealing of options. Deep down, he had always been concerned about being crazy or possessed by a demon. It was a relief to have a third choice.

While she listen to the choir of crickets and toads outside his window, an idea came to mind. If her visions were real, Jackson ought to be real too. He looked for one of his father's notes until he was able to read it again.

_The first thing he told me was that he needed to look for that Jackson boy. When I asked him where he thought he'd be, he answered, very securely, that he would be in New York. He said he was waiting for him._

The idea shook Will to his very core. If William had died and came back to Earth as another person, Jackson ought to have come back as well. And Will was supposed to look for him. He stood up feeling electricity coursing through his body, his heart beating fast, shaky hands. He thought about the guy he had seen on TV. Would Sonny Kiriakis be the person he was supposed to be looking for? He couldn't deny that there was something about his smile that made Jackson's sideway smile came to mind. Plus, he lived in New York.

But he refused to believe that. The idea was way too strange to be taken seriously. The Jackson that William had loved would have never come back to Earth as a multimillionaire who was a suspect in a murder investigation. He plopped himself on the mattress and squeezed his eyes shut trying to get a vision. Another vision of William's life that would give him any sort of clue as to where Jackson could be. Unfortunately, nothing happened. Finally, after sobbing out of frustration, he fell asleep next to his father's notes.

* * *

First thing in the morning, Will started to smell something burning. Coughing and rolling, he tried to open his eyes, but he found himself being pulled towards the other side of the darkness.

_He was in the known room. The flames were getting closer, and the smell told him he didn't have much time. He started to fumble inside the room, looking for him. In the corner of his eye he saw the reflection of a blonde man with soot in his face. _

_ ––Jackson! ––he heard himself scream out. The panic was taken over. He couldn't breathe––. Jackson!_

_ He felt strong arms surround him._

_ ––I'm here, my love. I'm here. I promise I'll find you. I will see you again. I love you._

_ ––I love you too._

_ A loud noise came from above. Something was cracking. Something hit him. And then it was all over._

* * *

After school was over, Will and Chad were going to the DiMera house. They had some schoolwork to do and Will really liked to spend time there, it was peaceful, quiet, Marlena-free and he really liked EJ DiMera.

Once they got inside Chad's truck, Chad spoke.

_––_Is there something you want to talk about? You've been awfully quiet.

_––_I've just been thinking _––_he answered. He didn't know how to tell Chad about everything he'd found out.

_––_Aww… I'm sorry, does it hurt? _––_Chad teased.

_––_Very funny. _––_Will patronized.

_––_OK, so, what have you been thinking about, blondie? Your imaginary boyfriend?

_––_Maybe.

_––_Are you going to tell me?

_––_Later_––_Will answered with a grin.

_––_I'll let you think about it until we get home _––_Chad informed_––. _But after that I'm getting it out of you. You know, my dad taught me a few interrogation techniques he picked up in the army. I've been wanting to check them out.

The paved road towards the DiMera house was very rocky. The lands around the house had been for sale for a while now, and it was funny to see the old, but very big house next to a brand new trailer park.

Chad parked next to the DiMera's shed and Will started to take out the blank canvases from the truck.

_––_Is that you, Will Horton? _––_A voice said as Will was getting upstairs.

_––_Hi, Mr. DiMera. _––_An even taller than Chad man came out of a room.

_––_Oh come on Will, don't call me Mr. DiMera. EJ for you.

_––_OK, hi, EJ.

_––_Better, so where's Chad?

Chad got inside the room.

_––_Hi dad. We're going to do homework and paint a little, is that OK?

_––_Of course it is. Do you guys need anything?

Will inserted himself in the conversation.

_––_No, not at all. We're fine.

_––_Sure, you don't need a model for a portrait of the male body? _––_EJ joked.

_––_If we were to draw you and sell it, half of Salem's married couples would be over.

Chad was kidding, but not exaggerating. EJ DiMera was surely Salem's most handsome man: tall, built, charming and well-mannered. Single, and married, women's mouth would water when he walked by. His only competition would have to be his son.

_––_Why thank you, son. Lucky for you, you got my good looks. _––_EJ said as he ruffled his son's hair. _––_Now, excuse me guys, but I need to go grab ingredients for dinner. Are you staying for dinner, Will?

_––_If it's not a problem.

_––_Not at all, and you know that. You're always welcome here, Will.

With that being said, EJ grabbed his coat and left. Will loved having dinner with the DiMeras, not only because they were great company, but also because the food was amazing. EJ and Chad had taken upon house chores three years ago, when Madeline Peterson, Chad's mother and EJ's wife, died of cancer. Plus, Will was always surprised at the banquets those two would make with the low amount of money they had. They were extremely skilled at anything they did.

_––_So, ready to tell me what's gotten into you?_ ––_Chad asked while he placed took out his homework.

_––_Marlena won't let me go to college this fall.

_––_Shut up!

Chad paused, waiting for overkill.

_––_Yep.

He looked down and then up to his friend.

_––_So what's the plan?

Will shrugged.

_––_Do you remember what I would say as a child?

_––_Actually, no _––_Chad responded, confused by the change in subject_––. _You barely had any visions when we became friends. But you did told me everything about Jackson and William, of course.

_––_Do you recall me talking about a fire?

Chad thought for a moment.

_––_No. I don't recall a fire. Why?

_––_My dad would write down everything I said as a child. My mom gave me the box where he stashed the notes just after Marlena decided to ruin my life again.

Chad straightened.

_––_She had all this time and she never showed you before?

_––_She thought I wasn't ready for it.

_––_Well, what did you discover?

Will stuck his hand inside his back pocket and took a folded piece of paper out. He began reading.

_Will had always been a little quirky, so I assumed he had some sort of imaginary friend until I finally asked him some questions […]. It was then that I started to consider the fact that Will was remembering a past life._

_ ––_There!

It seemed as if Will was announcing the discovery of an extra-terrestrial in the backyard.

_––_That's what I thought _––_Will said, feeling slightly less sure_––. _I told my dad my name was William. And that I lived in New York. That Jackson was my boyfriend.

_––_Let me see that _––_Chad took Lucas Horton's note. He sat by the table and Will saw him go through every word twice_––. _Do you really believe this reincarnation stuff?

_––_What do you think?

Chad ran a hand through his brown locks.

_––_I don't know, Will. I think I need some time to get all of this. I mean, I don't think you're crazy, and I'm sure you're not allied to the devil. But I was taught to believe that God judges each. And I have faith in Heaven, even when most of this people wouldn't like to see me there.

_––_Me neither! _––_Will screamed out. _––_But you have to admit that this makes sense. How else would I know about places I've never been before? And… _––_he stopped.

_––_What?

_––_Well, I think that maybe I have this visions because I am supposed to be looking for Jackson. That's what I told my dad when I was young.

_––_Look for Jackson? Do you think he's still alive? Would he be a little too old for you now? Even if he were real, he'd be what, a hundred and nine?

Will interrupted.

_––_Last night I had a vision. There was a fire. That's where William died. I think that Jackson died there too. And I think that he was born again, like me. I need to find him, Chad. And you have to help me. I can't explain it, but I know he's there somewhere.

_––_OK _––_Chad directed his green eyes at Will's blue ones. _–– _Are you telling me that Jackson is your _soul mate_ or something?

Will frowned and looked away.

_––_Well, it sounds really dumb when you say it like that.

_––_It wasn't my intention to make it sound dumb _––_Chad said quietly. He folded Lucas Horton's note and stood up in front of Will_––. _I think it's a good idea. Completely crazy, but a good one. But where do you intend on beginning your search for Mr. Wonderful? Johnson City? Unicoi?

_––_Funny. He's in New York. You read my dad's note. He said I told him Jackson was waiting for me in New York.

_––_Wait a moment. I think I got it _––_Chad had gotten very cocky, like a TV detective that had just cracked the case_––. _You forget I'm a mind reader, Will Horton. You think that Jackson came back as Sonny Kiriakis, right?

_––_No!

It sounded even more ridiculous when Chad said it.

_––_Of course you do _––_he insisted_––_. But fear no more. You don't have to admit it just yet. I just hope my soul mate's also a billionaire, with the body of Adrianna Lima.

_––_No, seriously. _––_Will plead_––_. You don't think this' crazy?

_––_Not crazier than the whole satanic possession idea, I guess. _––_Chad shrugged_––. _At least you didn't say you used to be Julius Caesar in a past life. And, for that matter, how does reincarnation work? Why does God keep sending us back to this sad planet?

_––_I have no idea. Maybe he's sending back people who still have something to understand _––_Will speculated_––_ you know, maybe that's why I'm gay. Maybe in a past, past life, I was a woman and I was horrible to many men, so God sent me back to see how it felt like in the other side of the spectrum.

_––_Hey, don't say that _––_Chad argued, ever since he was little he was raised to believe in equality and tolerance _––_ Are you saying that being gay is some sort of punishment? You sound like most people in this town!

_––_Sorry, you're right. It's just that I often wonder if I'm being punished. If not, why would I be born in Marlena's family? I must've killed an entire village.

Chad laughed.

––Who do you think Marlena was in her past life?

––Oh, that's easy ––Will said among giggles––. Attila the Hun.

* * *

_The breeze blew his hat. This rolled by the plaza to the feet of a young man nearby. He had laid eyes on him earlier, looking from a far from a coffeehouse he was at. While he went looking for the hat, he was also looking for his mother's blue dress. They had split up during their tour of the roman fountains, and even though he tried to get back to the suite at the Ritz, the narrow streets had taken him there, as if he was walking a known path. Once he got to the Piazza Navona, the feeling of having been there before invaded him. It was a feeling he'd had since he arrived in Rome. His mind was playing tricks on him again._

_ He then approached the young man, hoping he wouldn't be able to hear his heart beating. He didn't want him to think what was actually happening, he was attracted to him, that would certainly end badly. However, he did allow himself to stare, he couldn't be older than twenty years, he was unusually handsome, with dark brown hair and a face he'd most likely see in a Greek god's statue at the Vatican's Museum. Those statues had always captivated him, to the point of his mother finding it inappropriate._

––Buon giorno ––_the man said, taking off his hat._

––_Hi._

_ His throat was dry and her voice cracked._

––_You're American. How lucky._

––_I'm from New York _––_he knew him, he thought_––_ Have we met before?_

_ He noticed he had a sideway smile. A little flaw that made him perfect._

––_Not in this life. My name is Jackson Montgomery._

––_William McLaren_

––_How do you like Rome, William? _––_Jackson asked. Barely had he stopped looking at his face since he arrived at the plaza._

––_It's gorgeous._

_ William felt himself blush._

––_Yeah, I feel somehow at home in here _––_he started_–– _Sometimes I can't help but consider the possibility of me having lived here before. Have you ever felt that way?_

––_A little _––_she admitted._

––_And the Piazza Navona. Maybe you have seen it before. Have you dreamt it?_

––_Who are you? _––_William asked_––. _How do you know this things?_

––_I've been looking for you _––_he answered. _

_ Suddenly he saw the man's face getting closer. Was he crazy? They could both get killed._

––_Don't worry, they can't see us._

_ William looked around, and as a matter a fact, nobody was looking at them. Jackson's lips were already touching his, but yet, nobody was looking at them._

––_William! _––_a high squeak came from the other side of the piazza_–– _William, where are you?_

––_Now it's your turn to find me _––_Jackson murmured, sliding a card into his hand._

_ William looked at it. Printed at the back was a silver snake biting its own tail._

* * *

For a while after he woke up on the floor of his house, Will felt happier than ever. Still with the sweet taste of Jackson's lips on his, he closed his eyes to try and picture that man's face while they kissed.

However, reality struck him hard when he noticed what was laid down before him. He remembered what he had done after getting home from the DiMera's. He had gone up to the attic to look for more clues regarding Jackson. He stumbled upon lots of drawings he'd made when he was three, four and five years old. In each drawing, you would find the same brown-haired man with brown eyes. That's what triggered his flashback. And now he was staring at the picture of an ivy-covered mansion. A young man with blonde hair and another young man with brown hair.

Among the drawings there was a newspaper article. When he flipped it, Will found a short article, accompanied by a picture of Lucas Horton and another one with a photo of Nicole Walker.

_Two people died when a van driven by Lucas Horton, from Salem, collided on route 36, outside Johnson City. Horton died immediately, and his passenger, Nicole Walker, was pronounced dead at Salem U's Hospital at midnight last night. Cause of the impact is still unknown._

Will took the article and ran downstairs towards his mother.

––What is this? ––Will showed his mother the article, practically slapping it to her face. Sami went numb when she saw it ––What is it? –– Will insisted. He was pissed, but he didn't know why.

––A newspaper article?

––It's actually an article regarding a car crash, know which?

––May I see it? ––Sami asked quietly.

––What's going on here?

––Marlena, get the hell out! ––Will growled––. This doesn't concern you!

––How dare you curse in my own house! ––Marlena barked.

––He's right, mother; this doesn't concern you. Please, leave.

Marlena was completely thrown off. This is the first time in years her daughter dared contradict her.

––Please ––Sami repeated––. Leave us to talk.

––If you insist, but tell your son to watch his mouth. ––Marlena said before leaving.

––Sit, Will. I think it's time for you to know the truth. I'll tell you everything you want to know.

––Why was he with that woman when he died?

Sami Brady tried to smile at that, but couldn't.

––I've been trying to answer that exact question myself for a long time now. And I've never been able to find another explanation beyond the obvious.

Will felt like his chest was now carrying a heavy load.

––So, they were having an affair?

Sami Brady nodded.

––People kept saying that for a while then, but I refused to listen. You know, sometimes, when you're too close to people, it's hard to look at who they really are. Your father vowed fidelity, and I believed him. But it turns out that he had lied.

––I don't get it ––Will said––. How could he do this? All those stories you told me, how you met, how you married. You really believed you'd been born to be together.

––Those stories… ––Sami began to crumble a little bit––. I had hoped you'd forgotten those. I feel so dumb. I got carried away.

––What do you mean you got carried away? ––Will's voice sharpened again––. Did you make them up? Did you lie to me?

––I didn't lie. Sometimes, when people fall in love, we take facts and turn them into pretty stories. But it's dangerous to do that, for some day, like it or not, you'll see the world for what it truly is. You realize that people aren't what you'd wish they were. And if you're not ready for said truth… well, let's just say that it's a big shock.

––Is that why you ended up in the hospital?

––I wasn't really at a hospital, Will.

––I know

––I'm sorry. This must be hard on you. But please, try to understand. Everything I believed in my heart was fake. Your grandmother tried to warn me, but I refused to listen. I was young and unwise, and I paid my dues. If it hadn't been for you, Will…

––So, Marlena had always been right about my dad.

Sami Brady lowered her voice and spoke to Will's ear.

––Your grandmother hasn't lived for all these years without learning a thing or two. She sees the world as it is. I guess I do too, now.

––You mean you don't believe that there are people in this world who are meant to be together?

Sami laid back in her sit and studied Will's face.

––Is this because of Jackson and the box I gave you?

Will was silent.

––I'd like to believe that there are people meant to live for one another ––Sami Brady looked as if she had saved her last beacon of hope for her son––. Who knows. Maybe there was somebody for me somewhere, but as it turns out, I didn't find him. However, you can't let my bad luck stop you from looking. You've talked about Jackson since you were very little. If he really is somewhere out there, I think it's your obligation to go look for him someday.


	6. Chapter 6

Will started to go through his father's box again after the talk with his mother. He needed a sign. A sign that told him that he was right to believe that Jackson was out there. Shuffling through the drawings, he spotted the _National Enquirerer _magazine he and Chad looked at a few days ago. He felt drawn to it, to the article about Sonny Kiriakis.

He opened it, on a random page, which just so happened to be the one after the page he'd read the first time. It was still part of the Sonny Kiriakis' article, but it featured photos of him with the musician who died, Christopher Moore. A photo of the two of them with another boy, credited as Mark Kristensen. And a picture of what was credited as Sonny Kiriakis' residence. A white mansion covered in ivy, with a red door and green velvet curtains. Will's heart started racing. However, when his door started to slowly open, Will broke out of his trance.

––Come on, Marlena, I've told you to knock! ––Will yelled before he saw Chad's beautiful face staring right at him––. What are you doing here? ––he asked, still annoyed at the fright.

––Your mom let me in ––Chad stayed at the door, looking down at the photo and note covered floor. ––What the hell happened in here?

––Come in! ––Will hissed––. And shut the door!

––What's all this? Have you finally gone nuts?

––I found something. Sit. ––Chad sat on the floor, next to Will. Will placed a drawing of a house in front of Chad and pointed at it with his index ––I drew that when I eight.

––It's excellent ––Chad said–– But what does it have to do with these magazines and your father's box?

––I'm getting there ––Will took the _National Enquirerer _on top of his bed and opened it at the already marked page. He pointed at a picture of Sonny Kiriakis in front of his house. Will placed the drawing next to it. The door, the curtains, the colors, the shapes, even the sun's positions were almost identical––. This is the house where William lived. Sonny Kiriakis lives in my house.

––How do you know he lives there?

––Either he lives there or he really likes to pose in front of it ––Will said as he placed six more pictures of Sonny in front of the house.

––OK. That's weird ––Chad accepted––. Possibly even weirder than what I came here to show you.

––You have something to show me? ––Will asked.

Chad tilted to the side and took a copy of _Star_ magazine from his back pocket. The cover was graced by Sonny Kiriakis and the headline read: SMITTEN?

––I went by the super earlier ––Chad said––. The freshest batch of magazines was out, and I thought I would give it a look. I guess that the intrepid reports from _Star_ tracked down one of the guys Sonny Kiriakis was seen with. He told them that he never had anything serious with him, because he was sure Kiriakis was in love with another guy. Wherever they went, he would always be looking for him.

Chad handed Will the magazine, but he didn't take it. He wanted to, but he couldn't allow himself to.

––Maybe he was in love with that musician's boyfriend ––Will whispered–– Isn't that what the tabloids are saying? That he killed Christopher whatshisface to keep him?

––Maybe. Or maybe Sonny Kiriakis has been looking for you.

Will tried to keep his emotions in check at that last remark.

––That interview proves nothing ––he pointed out––. There might be some sort of connection between us, but there's no hard proof that Sonny Kiriakis and I are soul mates.

Chad looked at him as if he were suspecting his friend being substituted by an alien form.

––Did I miss something? I thought you were convinced that Sonny Kiriakis was the one you were supposed to be looking for.

––I have to be careful, that's it ––Will explained, piling the magazines in a final attempt to keep himself busy––. I can't live my life falling in love with fantasies.

––And the house you drew? How do you explain that, and everything else that we've discovered ––Chad asked.

––And how would you explain this? ––Will grabbed a pile of pictures and handed them to Chad. In each, Sonny Kiriakis would have his arm around a different guy.

––I don't understand.

––If Sonny Kiriakis was really looking for me, do you really think he'll deceive every New York guy?

Chad laughed.

––Do you really expect a nineteen year old guy to live as a monk until he finds you? I mean, come on, you're a guy too. You can't possible tell me you've never… taken matters into your own hands. ––Will simply nodded––. Besides, where does it say here that he had anything intimate with these guys?

––I don't really care what Sonny Kiriakis did or didn't do to this guys ––he insisted––. It's just that I don't want to waste my time chasing pavements. If I can't find tangible evidence that we're meant to be together, I'm not taking any chances.

––What's that about you not taking any chances? ––Chad barked––. You somehow manage to get me hooked on this past lives deal, but, now that we have seemed to found your old boyfriend, you get cold-feet and you back down? I'm not having it. I will make you talk to him.

––With a New York rich kid that might be a murderer? Have you lost it?

––Are ya scared? ––Chad countered.

––Hell no! But anyway, how am I supposed to get in touch with this Sonny? As if it were as simple as a phone call. Besides, Marlena has me trapped here in Salem for the perceivable future. How the hell am I supposed to go to New York? I can't even control my visions. What if I blacked out in the middle of the street somewhere?

––I got it.

––About time!

Will wanted Chad to cave. He wasn't making keeping his expectations low easy.

––I'm not moving until you hear me out.

Will saw that it wasn't an empty promise.

––Fine. Let's hear it.

––Well, remember the letter your father wrote, the one in which he said he believed you had memories of a past life?

––Yeah. I do.

––Well, it was addressed to a place called _Ouroboros Society_. It sounded a little weird so I googled it. Turns out this Society helps people when they have memories about past lives. And guess what? It's right there in New York! I bet you that if you email them and tell them your story, they'll schedule an appointment for you and find you a place to stay while you're there. They can't possibly stumble upon things like this every day. And while you're down there, how bad would it be to have a little meeting with Mr Kiriakis?

––Fine. But even if that works out, how am I supposed to take a plane to New York under Marlena's surveillance. She would call the cops on me before I got to Maryland.

––Explain to me again why you have to run everything by Marlena. Tell her we're going on a road trip for a couple of days. She'll never figure it out. And as if you couldn't allow yourself a little trip to New York with everything we've gained with our business. Besides, I can lend you some.

––Never. You need that money for college.

When Chad sighed, he knew he'd been successful in changing the subject.

––I don't think I'll ever be able to pay for Vanderbilt.

––Are you saying that you might not be getting into college?

––I'm saying that if I take classes in the east of Salem, I can come and go every day and save in living expenses. ––Chad explained––. But we're getting off the subject. We can talk about that later. Meanwhile, take some of my money and go write that email!

Will wasn't able to find an excuse.

––I'll think about it.

* * *

_William felt like his entire body had been lit on fire, but that fire was now out, and he could only feel an exquisite warm sensation on his body. What a feeling it was. He couldn't feel it at his full, but he knew that he had never experienced anything like that. It was like fireworks bursting in every inch of his skin._

_ He opened his eyes and the view that greeted him was by far the most amazing view he'd ever witnessed. It was Jackson. Jackson's glowing beautiful face with a slightly sweaty forehead and damp hair, and a beautiful grin on his plump, moist and redden lips. However what caught his eye more than anything was the sight of Jackson's chiseled, slightly hairy and heaving chest. William's head was laid there, with Jackson softly running his fingers through William's also slightly damp hair. That's when it hit him that he was naked, completely. And that he was laying in bed next to Jackson. Both of them loosely wrapped in white pearly sheets. William had his arms wrapped around Jackson's middle. Feeding from his heat. The heat they had produced in their act of love. Jackson and he had made love. And this was the sweet aftermath of that. William felt like he could burst in happiness. _

_ ––Hi ––William heard Jackson say, with a soft and romantic voice._

_ ––Hi ––He answered, trying his best not to sound as overzealous as he felt._

_ ––How are you feeling? ––The happiness in Jackson's voice was tangible, but right now it had a mix of concern that baffled William. How could he be concerned about me, he just gave me the most sacred thing I've ever been given. He gave me himself._

_ ––I feel… complete. I feel like I finally found what I've been missing since the day I was born. I feel happy, no, happy is way too mild. I feel perfect._

_ ––You do? ––The contentment in Sonny's voice was enough to send William into overdrive._

_ ––I do. ––How could he think otherwise. He just gave me the most amazing thing I've ever had, the most sacred thing I could possibly hold and call my own: he gave me himself. ––And… and you?_

_ ––I feel perfect. I always feel perfect when I'm with you. Because when I'm with you, I'm complete. I'm with my other half. I'm like I'm supposed to be since our first life together. ––Jackson's eyes were so sparkly and filled with love. That stare would forever be imprinted in my heart, for I'm the only one, ever, to hold that gaze. ––This has been one of our best first times._

_ ––Really? ––The fact that he remembers each of our firsts, I won't deny, has me a little envious_––. Would you… would _mind telling me about those?_

_ ––One of the many things I enjoy in this world is telling you about our past lives together. I will forever hold you close and whisper in your ears the multiple stories of our love. Our eternal love._

_ And so William laid on his back, with his head still in Jackson's warm chest and with Jackson's arms holding him close while he whispered in William's ear one of the most amazing stories he'd ever heard: _

_A perfect love story about a blonde French nobleman that feel in love with a brown-haired peasant, a story of how the courtesan left his parent's castle, his fortune, his life to be with the love of his life in a quiet little hut just outside Vignon. Their life was hard, the former aristocrat, named Jacques, had taken the possessions he could and sold all of them so he could buy some cattle, few poultry and some other essentials; him and his lover, Maximilien, did struggle to survive. They didn't have much commodities, but they were never hungry, and they were never without the one thing they truly needed, love. They made sure to never go a minute without showing their devotion, their love for one another. No matter what you may think, they lived a happy life, a live together, a life of love. _

_One day, Maximilien got home from selling some products at a local marketplace, he walked up to Jacques, who had just finished milking a cow, took his hand and placed a silver ring around his finger. _

––_What is this? ––The blonde peasant asked._

––_This is my vow. This ring represents my heart, that will forever be in your hands. Like it always has, like it always will. I love you._

_Jacques could do no more than kiss his soul mate passionately and walk him up to their bedroom, where they made love all night._

_ They lived a happy life, until, unfortunately, Maximilien got very sick, Jacques did everything he could to nurse his loved one back to health, however he was unsuccessful, and Maximilien left this world with a promise:_

_ ––I will find you, Jacques. I promise I will find you. I will see you again, my love. This has been one of our best lives together, but I'm afraid I have to leave. But we'll meet again, I promise. Until then, my love, always remember that I love you._

_ And he died. Maximilien buried his loved one in front of the house where they lived a life full of love. Every single day he would kneel there and talk to him. Tell him how much he loves him and how much he misses him, and how he can't wait until they met again. _

_ Jacques died on top of Maximilien's burial ground, a month after the latter's death. He was found by a couple of huntsmen. He had a hand clutching a note that read "I beg whoever may read this, please bury me here, here the love of my life lays.", and the other in his heart, nestling a silver ring. He had a huge smile in his lips._

Will woke up the next morning, with tears in his eyes, but with a huge smile on his lips. He now knew what he needed to do.


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm sorry for the few people that read this story for taking so long to update, but you know how it is. This is extremely short, but hopefully you'll use your readers imagination to figure what I'm trying to convey with this chapter.**

A little before three, he dragged himself out of bed and to his laptop, he typed the internet address of the Ouroboros Society and waited for it to load. He needed guidance, and this seemed like the best one.

Once it was fully loaded, the welcoming screen was pitch black with a spinning silver snake biting its own tail. Will clicked on the snake and he read the available options that emerged.

_Reincarnation and the Ouroboros Society_

_ A message from our president_

_ Our offices_

_ Share your story_

_ Members only_

He clicked on _Reincarnation and the Ouroboros Society_. The silver snake started to spin again before it disappeared, leaving behind another page with silver font.

_Do you miss a place you've never been at?_

_ Do you usually experience the feeling of déjà vu?_

_ Have you ever fallen in love at first sight?_

_ Do you possess skills or talents that defy all explanation?_

_ Do fears or anxieties haunt you?_

_ Do you feel unusually close to certain people in your life?_

_If your response to any of these questions was "yes", you may have experimented a past life._

_Reincarnation explains lots of human existence's multiple mysteries. Why are some of us born with extraordinary gifts. Why do we love who we love. Why do we fear what we fear. We keep coming back to Earth over and over again, moved by love, vengeance, passion or greed. And each life leaves behind a mark, even if we lose most of our memories when our soul moves from a living body to another one. _

_ Since 1923, Ouroboros Society has dedicated itself to the scientific study of reincarnation. We give financial abidance to members who posses exceptional abilities, in order for them to exploit them to their full capacity. We help other members reunited with their lost loved ones or solve a mystery from the past. Those with memories from a past life will discover more about the people they once were. Those without any memories can begin the search of how much reincarnation has influenced their lives._

_ If you believe you have had a past life, or if you wish to know more about reincarnation, we suggest you get in touch with us, Ouroboros Society._

Intrigued, Will returned to the previous page and clicked on _A message from our president_. In the accompanying picture of the text was an extremely handsome young man, perfect short brown hair, piercing grey eyes and a small smuggish smile.

_I was born in Munich in 1989. When I was barely two years old, I started to pronounce weird words and phrases. My parents, who only spoke German, thought I was just a mumbling baby until a friend of the family came for a visit. He had lived in Ireland for a while, and he instantly recognized the idiom I was speaking in. It was Gaelic. He stated that the first thing I told him was that I wanted to get back home._

_ Throughout my childhood, I spoke about a house next to water where it snowed every winter. I described gigantic buildings, crowded streets and trains that ran under benches. And I spoke about a beautiful mansion opposite a park. That was my place. I started to display an unusual gift, as well. Even though I had never taken lessons in it, I discovered that I could play basically any instrument you would place in front of me. It hadn't been until a few years after, when I learned the names of the pieces I had played before. They were the work of a not so widely known musician that lived in Austria at the end of the 18th century. _

_ My parents, even though German, weren't closed to the idea of reincarnation. However, despite their support, my adolescent years were difficult. I had convinced myself that New Yok was the city I remembered, and I begged my parents to take me there. When they explained that they didn't have enough money for that, I repeatedly tried to escape. I felt that my destiny could only be fulfilled in Manhattan._

_ At last, my family's old friend got in touch with Ouroboros Society, and he got me to visit New York on an interview. When I finally laid eyes on our offices, here, in Gramercy Park, I knew that I was home. It was the same mansion I had explored in my dreams. Then, I discovered that I had been a member of the Society in one of my previous reincarnations. To date, I'm the only Ouroboros' member to be here in for a second period._

_ Thanks to the Society's scholarships, I was able to develop my musical abilities. Today, as president of the organization, I dedicate myself to help those like me. Among our many members, you can find some of the world's most talented and successful people, and every year we welcome more to our family. If you believe that we can help you achieve your full potential, don't hesitate to share your story with us._

_ Brian Kahn, president, Ouroboros Society_


	8. Chapter 8

_He was fast approaching a mansion, squeezing tightly in his hand an invitation. To the door's left, just under the bell, a small plaque read OUROBOROS SOCIETY. These words were encased inside the image of a snake biting its own tail. There was no reason to be nervous, William thought. The new president was meeting everyone, he wasn't the only one._

_Inside, he was about to crash into a desk placed outside the vestibule, which blocked the access to the rest of the mansion. The young man behind it greeted him with a forced smile._

_––William McLaren? ––he inquired––. The president will meet you at the salon._

_––Thank you._

_William went around the desk and walked towards the hallway. He had almost made it to the back of the salon when he spotted them, apart by just a few short inches. Jackson had his back to the door, but he could see the face of the man Jackson was looking at. It belong to young man named Noel Underwood._

_All the suspicions that William had harbored at some point came rushing back at that moment. Noel Underwood was one of the first members of the Society, and everyone in it knew about Noel's preferences in romantic companionship. He had spent months with Jackson before he took off to Rome. William used to wonder if anything had ever happened between them. Jackson and Noel had a lot in common. They were both orphans sheltered by Dr Strickland. Both of them said they remembered details about multiple past lives. And both of them were unbelievable beautiful. Noel particularly, with that silky short ebony hair and that perfect slim, broad shouldered-narrow waisted body of his. Jackson had always insisted that they were just friends, but, seeing them together, William had to admit they made a gorgeous couple._

_––You don't need him anymore ––Noel sai, with a voice a little stronger than a whisper––. We both know you're only after his money. Now that you're Strickland's heir, we can finally be together. Like it's meant to be!_

_Feeling like the air had been sucked out of his lungs, William ran towards the door. He couldn't afford to pass out until he'd managed to get away. In the vestibule, however, he crashed into someone coming down the stairs. The man caught him in his arms before he fell._

_––Handsome ––a voice both relaxing and alarmed––, are you OK?_

* * *

_He was getting up the stairs to the entrance of the mansion. The silver snake was the first hint of him being at the right address. Before he had a chance to knock, the door swung open. While a servant walked him to the main room, an arm took his in the hallway and pulled him into a dark closet, full of winter furs._

_––I saw you in the entrance ––it was his voice––. We had a few minutes until they find us._

_He pushed William against the wall, a mink fur coat in his back. He traced the contour of William's body with his hands, and he felt his warm lips in his when he bent to kiss him. For three weeks he hadn't thought about anything other than that. He forced himself not to pass out, refusing to let his legs give in. Even so, it all ended too quickly._

_By the way in which Jackson took his hand, he knew he already belonged to him. He walked him by the mansion all the way to the main room, where a group of people talked by the fireplace. He hadn't seen Jackson since Rome, and he wanted to study him for a minute. When he caught him staring, he smiled that same mischievous smile that made William's heart beat so fast back at the Piazza Navona._

_––Here he is ––Jackson said, presenting him to a silver-haired gentleman with an old-fashioned suit––. This is William. William, I would like to introduce you to doctor August Strickland, founder of the Ouroboros Society, a club so exclusive no one can pronounce its name._

_Doctor Strickland laughed._

_––It's a pleasure, mister McLaren. I've heard so much about you. Jackson says you'll be a wonderful acquisition to our Society._

_He turned surprised towards Jackson while he smiled a bigger grin._

_––And he ––Jackson added, pointing to a stunning young man next to the doctor–– is Noel Underwood._

_––Nice to finally meet you, William. ––Noel said to him. His voice sounded friendly, his expression was deadly. William didn't remember meeting anyone that he disliked so soon._

* * *

_Walking by the restaurants, he looked at his reflection in a window. The suit his mother had bought him just a couple of hours ago was a perfect fit._

_––You look even more handsome than yesterday. ––Jackson whispered in his ear. He laughed and let go of his hand as he opened the door. It was his first night out since the funerals, the first night in which they felt like spending a night out in the town._

_Inside the restaurant, people were growling, tipsy by the home-made gin served in tall glasses. However, once William and Jackson were by the entrance and a few of the people inside noticed them, people started to get quiet. William was really starting to worry._

_––Mr Montgomery! Mr McLaren! What are you doing here? ––the maitre rushed to ask._

_––Is something wrong? ––Jackson asked, and for a moment the man seemed to quiet._

_––You should leave ––he finally answered––. Come back when the rumors have gone off._

_––What rumors? ––William asked._

_––Killer! ––a man yelled from the back of the room._

_––Please! ––the maitre insisted._

_A blinding white light received them on their way out of the restaurant. Jackson grabbed the man by the neck. He had a photo camera._

_––Who are you? ––Jackson asked._

_––Take your hands off me! I'm from the _New York Daily Mirror!

* * *

Will opened his eyes to the sound of the front door closing. 9 PM. Saturday. That meant his mom and Marlena would be now going to the movies. It was time to make the most of his time alone, however, his head was spinning and the confusion of his dream was enough to make him dizzy. He had been convinced that there was a slight chance that the answers to most – if not all- his questions could be found in New York _–– _more specifically in Sonny Kiriakis. But now, he didn't know what to make of this dream. He remembers this Noel person, talking to Jackson, "his" Jackson. Telling him how they're meant to be together, how Jackson's only after William's money. And what about the whole "Killer" and the guy from the newspapers? What was going on? What if what Noel said was true? What if Jackson really killed someone…? What if he was only after his money? What if…? There was only one way to solve all of this…

_––_New York City, here I go. _––_Will said, getting up from the bed. _––_But first.

The results of the Google search of "Doctor August Strickland" landed Will a small bio:

_August Strickland. Teology professor. Columbia University. Funder of Ouroboros Society. Born January 21st 1862. Died June 15th 1927. –– Murdered?_

There was a link to _Strickland Mansion_.

_The Strickland mansion was built in 1852 by entrepeneur Samuel Strickland, whose family lived at the southern limit of Gramercy Park for the next seven decades. In 1920, the majority of the Strickland's fell victim to sadly popular strain of influenza. The only survivor was August Strickland, Samuel's nephew. Having lost his wife and children to influenza, August Strickland became obsessed with the concept of reincarnation. In 1923, he founded the Ouroboros Society, an organization dedicated to work with people who had had previous multiple lives. The OS welcome people of all conditions and was one of the few private clubs to accept women as members._

_One of the recipients of August Strickland's generosity was an enigmatic young man by the name of Jackson Montgomery, whom the doctor had raised since his early years. Members of the OS thought that Montgomery possessed incredible talents, and Strickland took it upon himslf to further this reverie. Without a family, Strickland left his protegée his extensive fortune. August Strickland died unexpectedly in june of 1927, and Jackson Montgomery received as part of his legacy the Gramercy mansion, to become, for a very short time, the fifth richest man in New York. _

_Rumors started to spread quickly. It was said that Jackson Montgomery was responsible for his mentor's death. Montgomery refused the charges vigorously, to the extent of donating the mansion and the Strickland fortune to the Ouroboros Society. But he died in a residential fire before he could clear his name. The fire remains a mystery until now, the only thing that is known was that Montgomery wasn't the only one to die in that fire. Reports say that his burned remains were found next to another burned body. Official release say that whoever that was, must've had a special connection to Montgomery, as their body were found tightly bound in a full-on hug._

_Nowadays, that mansion still harbors the central of the organization founded by August Strickland over eight years ago._

Will's eyes returned to the photo cover. A big mansion, covered in ivy.

* * *

_He was making his way through the crowd. All the men were wearing grim-looking black tuxedos. Women were wearing big hats with long black dresses and lace appliques everywhere. Every person he would walk by would have red eyes, and some were still weeping. Doctor Strickland had died._

_He looked for Jackson. Guests were waiting for the heir of the Strickland fortune to say a few words. But Jackson was gone. He heard some people talking inside Dr Strickland's office. _

_––Is it true that Montgomery's inheriting it all? ––a gentleman asked._

_––Yes, lucky bastard. ––another one cursed._

_––As far as I'm concerned, luck had nothing to do with it ––another one joked._

_––I don't know what you're implying ––another man hissed. The voice belonged to Noel Underwood––. Jackson and Dr Strickland were like father and son._

_––He's right, James ––say between giggles the second gentleman––. We don't want to pay attention to silly rumors. Who did Strickland name to run the Society?_

_––That, my dear friends, would be me. ––Noel proudly proclaimed._

_––Wow, Noel, you're taking over the Society. I would guess that means that we're in for a lot of changes. ––the first gentleman said._

_––That's right, Michael, I am already working on a system that will allow our members to help each other develop themselves._

_––Doesn't that already exist? I have just donated a lot of money to help out in one of Strickland's charity works, a ten-year old Physics genius in New Jersey._

_––Well Christopher, this new system will see it that you're rewarded for your generosity. ––Noel stated._

_––You mean like an accounting system? Didn't Strickland believe in doing good for goodness' sake._

_––Strickland was an idealist ––Noel responded––. This new system will take into account human nature._

_––Certainly, Mr Underwood ––one of the men said––. But I doubt that paying people to be good will better their human nature._

* * *

_––Wake up! Please wake up! My love, please, you need to wake up! You still haven't found me. I can't keep going on in this life if you're not here anymore! Please, wake up! If you love me, wake up!_

* * *

Will's eyes shot open. That last part wasn't in sync with the previous dream, this was different. It was like someone screaming in his ear. Like… like… _is that smoke?_

We rushed out of bed to notice that there was a bright orange light lighting up the left side of the hallway, the one opposite to the stairway out. _Oh my god!_

_––_Will! Will! Please! Will! Where are you! Will! _––_Will heard his mother's desperate and loud screams. _––_Will!

_––_I'm here, mom! I'm coming down! Are you OK!

_––_We're OK! Will hurry! The house's on fire!

Will, thankfully, was able to get out of his and down the stairs without bumping into any direct flame. However, the smoke was now heavily lingering in the air, and the heat and light were causing his skin to lightly burn. He exited the house with this mother and grandmother just as a fire truck parked outside. Firefighters started to pump water and hose down the house, a bus also came with the firetrucks and paramedics were rushing to them, to check if they needed aidance.

_––_Will, oh my god! Are you OK? Are you hurt, did you burn? Oh my god!

_––_I'm OK, mom. I'm OK. And you?

_––_We're fine. Right, mom? Mom?

Marlena Evans was now staring wide-eyed at her house. Her orange and black toned house, now starting to glisten at the pours of water the firefighters were imposing on it.

_––_Looks like you're getting your wish, young man. You've done it.

* * *

Will threw his suitcase to the back of EJ DiMera's pick-up truck. It was very early in the morning, and the sun was high up above the mountains.

_––_Tommorow at nine _––_a voice announced_––. _At the Apolo.

_––_What?

When Will turned around he saw Chad in the DiMera entrance, dressed in only a pair of boxers.

_––_I saw it on TV last night. At the Apolo, there will be some kind of music award. It's said that Sonny Kiriakis will be there.

Chad turned and walked inside.

_––_Don't leave, Chad… _––_Will begged.

_––_Good luck in New York. _––_he answered without turning back.

_––_Chad, I'm sorry. _––_he pleaded_––. _I need your help, I can't do this without you.

_––_Too bad you didn't think about it before, and just shut you're stupid mouth. _––_Chad banged the door shut, leaving Will at the edge of tears. The thing is that the day before, when Will got to the DiMera place for a nights sleep before going to New York, EJ and him started to talk about different stuff, until the subject of Chad, and Chad's education was brought up. Will let it slip that Chad didn't want to go to Vanderbilt, which pissed EJ off, since they had worked very hard to get the money for his education, this lead to a confrontation, shouts, screams, doors banged, TVs set at high volume, and a friend refusing to talk to Will for betraying their confidence.

Once EJ and Will were finally at the train station, Will gave EJ a long hug goodbye.

_––_Remember you'll always be able to count on us _––_EJ said_––_ And don't worry about Chad. That boy is setting himself up for disappointment if he decides to stay here.

The arrival of the train cut their goodbye short. He was barely able to hold his tears down until he found his seat inside. Still with tears held in his eyes, the train began to move through the mountains. Will shut his eyes. No matter how hard it was to say goodbye to the DiMera's, he didn't have the slightest need to throw one last look at the town that never wanted him. Now, it was time to look for something else. Something new. Something that maybe, just maybe, he could call his own. Forever.


	9. Chapter 9

The sun had set and the wagon was now dim. The shadowy landscape in the other side of the window gave no clue as to where Will was. He went by a ruined city, and lamp posts lighted weird scenarios. Three teens soaking each other in a pool in the surface of an abandoned backyard. A pitbull pulling on a weak chain. A girl wearing a nightshirt pointing a plastic gun to the train, that went by full speed ahead at less than six meters from her window.

Will felt chills and rubbed his arms, that now featured goosebumps. This world seemed different, more dangerous than the one he left behind. Salem had been a cocoon, smothering, but safe. Will started to feel that the freedom he now would get, would also come with a new series of risks. But he could still feel like New York was calling out to him. The force of the attraction was now stronger than ever.

––Excuse me, sir ––Will said. The man with Train insignia took his time to check the password in his ticket––. Where are we?

––New Jersey. Next stop Penn Station ––he answered, hurrying up as the words left his mouth and disappeared into the next wagon.

Will stood up to see if the restroom was occupied. He found the door unlocked, and the entire wagon in it empty, aside from the man sitting behind him, three rows back. He was wearing a plain navy blue suit and was sporting a thirty dollar haircut, and although he had his eyes closed, Will knew that he wasn't asleep. He came back to his seat and looked out the window. The buildings were now much smaller and were far more close to one another. The lamp posts were now bathing the streets in a pale yellow light. In the distance, he caught the first glimpse of a city with buildings high in the air.

* * *

Outside of Penn Station, the row to take a taxi was a few blocks long. A warm breeze scourged the city streets, and judging by the smell of ozone in the air Will knew that a storm was just around the corner. The man from back at the train was behind him, apparently foreign to everything beyond his BlackBerry. Will did not let him off his line of sight and reached out to grab his phone and call Chad for advice. Just when the first droplets of rain started to splash on the benches, Will made it to the taxi dispatcher.

––Where are you going? ––he asked, without looking up. To Will's back, a phone ceased to beep.

––Twenty-Eighth ––he murmured.

––Twenty-Eighth? ––responded the dispatcher, at full voice––. There it is ––he said, ripping a yellow piece of paper––. Enjoy your stay.

While the driver stuck his luggage on the trunk, Will sneaked inside the cab and shut the door rapidly. When he turned to the crowd outside, he saw the man in the suit in the front of line. He was no longer pretending. He looked right to him.

––Where to? ––the driver asked.

––The Windermere ––Will whispered, hoping the man outside couldn't read his lips.

––Which way? ––the driver asked, looking at him with a wicked smile.

Will felt like he was being tested and that the wrong answer would cost him an additional extra ten bucks.

––Fifth until Twenty-Eighth, and then go left ––he heard himself say.

––OK ––the driver said, with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

While the taxi drove south of town. Will watched the skyscrapers go by, it was like watching a movie he had watched thousands of times already. But some scenes had been deleted, and some scenes had been added. The effect was disconcerting , sometimes, down right disturbing. Everything was taller, shinier, flashier than he had expected. He felt relieved when the taxi stopped in front of the Windermere's golden front door. The rain was gushing down from the hotel's stall. The driver left Will's bags at the edge of the sidewalk, and he saw passengers from another taxi come inside a different hotel. The man from the train was not there.

––May I? ––the doorman took Will's luggage and he jumped in surprise––. You are a guest, right?

––Yes ––Will let out.

––Follow me ––the man said, walking him by the vestibule.

When Will got to the reception, a snarky woman in a stiff grey pantsuit looked up and down at him.

––May I help you? ––she asked with arrogance.

––I have a reservation under Will Horton.

––Let me see ––the woman said with disbelief. He typed his name––. Yes. Here it is.

––Good evening, sir. ––the employee from the window next to his seemed cheery. –– What can I help you with?

––I don't have a reservation, but I would like a room.

Will turned around and saw the man from the train slide an ID over to the counter.

––Excuse me ––he said, feeling ballsy––. Didn't we just saw each other at the train?

The man's face didn't show the slightest change.

––I don't know. Was it me? ––he asked.

––I saw you in the train ––Will insisted––. The one coming from Salem.

––Maybe ––the man responded––. But I didn't see you.

––Sir? ––Will heard the employee say––. Your key.

There was something in the woman's arrogant smile that made Will want to get away from her.

* * *

Will checked under the bed and inside the closet before he got under the sheets. He left the curtains open and he saw the lights coming from the buildings across from him turn off one by one. He dreamt of Jackson. He felt him besides him, he felt him under him. He could swear he'd felt the soft hairs in Jackson's perfectly sculpted chest under his cheek. The constant rise and fall of say chest as he'd let out every breath with a soft and purring snore. When the splendid summer sunlight finally woke him up, he realized he had both of his arms around a large pillow placed parallel to him, one leg under it and the other over it. Like ivy, the pillow and him were tangled in a deep hug.

Will got up, drank coffee from the room service and showered. Once bathed, shaved and dressed, he took the number six metro heading uptown. When he walked up the stairs and into Spring Street, for the first time in his life he felt like he was where he was supposed to be. Once he headed east, a woman in a pleated skirt and high heels ran by his side. At the edge of the bench he was sitting in, a man waiting behind the steering wheel of a luxury car with white stripped wheels and no hood. It was in pristine conditions for an approximately one hundred year old car. The newspaper the man was holding had the headline: "BRITISH EXPLORERER LOST IN THE AMAZON". A nearby store offered the whatever was in style right then. "Victrola Sounds and Apparel" was the name, and next to it, there was a poster for a Charles Chaplin movie display.

After the blink of an eye, the whole scene disappeared into thin air. Even though the buildings were still the same, the cars and the people belonged to the present. He turned around in Elizabeth Street and he discovered that the neighborhood's stores were now multiple cafés and boutiques. He picked an expensive pair of denim jeans and two perfectly fitted shirts. The first real expenditure he made since he began to save up in the fourth grade.

Once he walked out of the store, he started to question exactly what was it that he was doing. He had come to New York to solve a mystery, to look for whatever William wanted and put an ending to the visions for once and for all. Nevertheless, there he was. Picking up an outfit with which to impress a guy who, everybody thought, was nothing else than a pain in the ass. But when Will pictured meeting Sonny that night, it took his breath away. The beacon of hope that shone in that moment asphyxiated his common sense.

He tried to be reasonable. Sonny Kiriakis was a notorious player in the gay community, and if the rumors regarding Christopher Moore were true, Kiriakis might soon end up in jail for the rest of his life. But Will's logic was vain. He wanted nothing more than to find Jackson Montgomery walking by the red carpet in the Apollo.

* * *

By seven thirty, Will was ready and sitting at the foot of the bed, watching the clock on the lower left corner of Channel One. At a quarter past eight, he stood up and saw his reflection on the mirror. His hair was perfectly messy and the shirt he had bought earlier fit perfectly around his torso. Even the doorman checked him out when he made his way out, and even flirted a little bit.

Outside of the Apollo, a crowd was convulsing behind a velvet rope that outlined the red carpet. Will was fifteen minutes too late to slide in the first row, and when he pressed his belly against the rope, it was already filled with guests. He was looking at the end of the line, watching star after star walk by, looking completely dazzling, but Will only cared about one dazzling star. He just wanted to catch a glimpse of Sonny Kiriakis.

It was already almost nine and Sonny Kiriakis was still a no show, but Will's feet already hurt. The line of people was getting shorter and shorter, and the influence of the stars was dimming. Finally a black polarized window Mercedes Benz reached the tip of the carpet. After the door swung open, an extremely handsome man tumbled outside, he was obviously drunk. The flashes of the cameras lit up the night, and minutes later, three figures emerged from the blinding lights. Two clearly tipsy gentlemen were walking by Sonny Kiriakis, who was walking in a perfect straight line. The crowd started to cheer and yell, and security guards started to walk behind the threesome. For a few seconds, Will didn't bother to breathe. The world around him ceased to be important, it just went quiet. Even though he didn't look at all like Jackson, Sonny Kiriakis was far more handsome in person than Will had ever imagined. Tall and slim, his body could make any clothing look like a million dollars. Dark brown hair, which was deliciously messy, and he had that type of skin color you only get when you lay in the sun by the hidden beaches in the south of France. His perfectly full brows arched mischievously over heart stopping chocolate brown eyes. Will wanted to see more, however more paparazzi had appeared with their cameras and their flashes, which is why he couldn't see it when Sonny and his companionship were just a few steps away. He did, however, witness when one of the tipsy men tripped on his own foot and stumbled forward, falling on top of the velvet rope and of Will.

When Will looked up, he saw that Sonny Kiriakis was looking at him with an electroshocking million dollar smile encased in a lovely face. He turned to one of the bodyguards and pointed at him. Sonny's lips moved, but Will couldn't hear his words.

––Him? ––the bodyguard seem to ask. Sonny nodded emphatically and kept on his march down the red carpet, this time, alone.

Still caught in the crowd, Will could only see him leave. He didn't notice that that bodyguard walked to him and grabbed him by the waist and pulled him to his shoulders.

––Hey! What are you doing? Put me down! ––he yelled, even though only a few people seemed to listen, nobody seemed to care.

* * *

The man dragged him through a service door at the side of the building and walked him through a long and narrow corridor. Dim phosphorescent lights lead the way. The bodyguard would say no words no matter how much Will cursed. At last they made it to a metal door. The guy opened it, turned on a light switch and put Will down in the room.

––Wait here. He'll be here soon ––he expressed raw and left.

––_Who?_ ––Will screamed through the closed door.

He turned around to face the room and look for an exit. The air was cold and humid, and he was starting to get chilly when the door opened. Sonny Kiriakis was in the hallway, with a breath-taking presence, despite him looking like he had ran a marathon due to his lack of ability to catch his breath. For a moment, he didn't move. He would just look at him, into him. Eyes wide open.

––You're here. ––it was all Sonny was able to whisper before he ran a few extra miles, grabbed him by the arms, bend and kiss him.

Once Will conviced himself that he was real, he kissed him back. And what a kiss it was.


	10. Chapter 10

**I would like to dedicate this chapter to my lovely boyfriend. Our nine-month anniversary is just around the corner, and I know for a fact that, not unlike the boys here, I have found my soul mate and my one true love. Happy "monthversary" and I love you 3. (Excuse me if you think it's inappropriate, but I had to do it ****) Enjoy and review - Jackson**

**PD: It's a short one, but there will be an update soon :)**

––Soooooonnnyyyyy. Soooonnnnyyyy! ––a voice sounded from the hallway.

––Where is he? ––another voice, with a british accent.

––Hey!

There was a forceful sound and then nervous giggles.

––Dude, what the hell? ––One of the voices said, now sounding closer.

––Wow! ––Sonny griped, letting his hands fall from Will's face. He looked so hot when he was mad.

––Are they _with you_?

Sonny gave a look.

––It's just that… No, wait… is this jealousy I perceive? Neither is my boyfriend or anything like that. They're more like… props.

Will blushed. In a way, his words were more intimate than his kiss. Sonny Kiriakis was teasing him. He knew that Will could get jealous, and that that could be something to make fun of. Will felt exposed and pumped, as if Sonny had seen him naked for an instant.

Sonny took Will by the hand and guided him through the hallway, where they walked into two guys, the ones with which Sonny arrived.

––Sonny! ––the blonde one exclaimed, dragging the words––. Where were you? We've been looking all over for you.

––The ceremony is beginning, and we won't be able to get in ––the tall brunette said––. You know that they're doing a tribute for Christopher. Why did you abandon us?

Sonny shrugged.

––Gentlemen, I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't go anywhere. I've been here all along.

The guys looked at each other.

––Who's he? ––the blonde one mumbled.

––My boyfriend. ––Sonny said, raising Will's hand to his lips and kissing him.

––_Your boyfriend? _––the brunette said, checking Will out. ––Damn, I thought I could get lucky with you tonight.

––Come on, Hunter! ––Sonny reproached, like a spoiled brat––. We talked about this. I get a cover-up and you get to get into this award ceremony.

––Sonny! ––the blonde one said––. How are we going to get in without you?

––Man, this threater is full of men twice as rich and lonely than me. Do you really need me to draw you a map? Now, excuse us, please ––the guys took the hint and began to retreat.

––They might wander this corridors for all eternity ––Sonny pointed out once the models stopped walking to decide which way to go: right or left––. Let's get out of here.

––Where? ––Will asked.

––You'll see.

When they made it to the door with the fluorescent sing that read EXIT, Sonny paused and let go of Will's hand. Sonny took of his coat and he put it around Will's body. Will was very moved by this chivalrous gesture, he figured that Sonny noticed Will shaking back at the room they met.

––I don't want you to be cold. Not anymore. Never again. ––Sonny smiled that precious smile and kissed Will tenderly on the lips.

––Thank you. ––Will said, his head spinning so much do to whole events until then.

––There's a car waiting for us outside. ––Sonny stopped and it looked as if he needed to say something that he didn't really want to––. Please know that this is something I don't want to do, but I really need to ask you to keep your head down. And maybe, cover your head with my coat.

Will didn't know what to say. He had just been asked to hide.

––W-Why? Do you not like my hair? ––Will nervously joked.

––I swear I'll explain later, but, please, William, don't be ridiculous, you're adorable as a blonde, and that southern accent has to be the cutest thing I've ever heard in this life. But see, we cannot let them take a picture of us together just yet. Please?

Will pretended to not notice the fact that he called him William. Truth is that his name, this life at least, wasn't William, it was plain Will. He realized that he knew Jackson's new name, but he didn't know his.

––Why not?

––Because I don't want to expose you to those jackals. You'll see. After a while, you won't be able to go to the bathroom without them. Besides, I doubt that your more recent parents want to see their son hooking up with a famous New York dude.

Sonny smiled at him, and he hoped that Sonny couldn't hear how loud his heart was beating.

––Okay, you win. But how am I supposed to get to the car if I have my face covered?

––Allow me ––Sonny placed his coat over Will's head and grabbed him by the waste––. Relax, try to look languid. They'll think you had one too many and that you can't stay for the rest of the show.

Will laid his head in Sonny's chest and breathed in. The perfume that came out of his skin enhibriated all of his senses. He heard the door open, and then flashes from dozens of cameras.

––What happened, Sonny? Roofied? ––a man shouted.

––He isn't dead, is he? ––another one hollered, and Will shook his foot in mute response.

––I'm just walking this gentleman home ––Sonny informed to one of the more concerned paparazzi––. He had a little bit too much to drink.

––Which one is he? ––the first man yelled––. The Calvin Klein model or the Days of Our Lives actor?

––Do I look like the one to kiss and tell? ––the photographers laughed––. Forget it. I won't answer that question. Good evening, gentlemen.

Will felt like Sonny wanted him to crouch and get inside the car. The door was rapidly closed, and in a moment, silence was made.

––You can take it off now ––Sonny said with a voice filled with happiness, anxiety, and if Will was right: pure and utter love. ––Polarized glass. They can't see anything. Not even the driver.

Outside, countless men with cameras around their necks were pressed up against the window, trying to catch a glimpse of Sonny's companion. Sonny pressed a button in the intercom next to him.

––To the stable ––he told the driver––. And avoid followers.

As soon as the car started moving, Will nervously studied Sonny's striking profile. For a moment, it looked like was becoming unsettled. He furrowed his brows, which darkened his eyes. He was pressing his lips in a perfect line, to seal them from any leak. He wasn't the shallow playboy he was expecting. Sonny Kiriakis looked, for an instance, like a man with a heavy load on his back.

––Is something wrong? ––Will asked, suddenly realizing that he knew nothing about the person sitting next to him.

––Don't pay attention to me ––Sonny soothed, taking his hand––. It's just that I didn't expect to find you so soon. I wanted to take care of a few things before.

––I'm sorry ––he answered, afraid to ask about what he meant––. I've never been very timely.

––You have nothing to be sorry about. I've waiting my entire life for you.

Sonny's melancholy had dissipated, leaving behind his known smile. Although a little crooked, it was the same smile that made William fall head over heels in love when he first saw it the piazza back in Rome. The face that framed it may have changed, but there was no doubting that that smile belong to the man he worshipped. No one else could pull off an expression that was impish, wary and daring at the same time. "It's Jackson", Will said to himself. This idea was so stunning that he was glad he was already sitting down.

––Were you really waiting for me? ––Will asked.

––Let's see if I can prove it to you.

Sonny laid him gently on top of the plushy car seat and kissed him again. His hands slowly traveled through his face, to his neck, his chest and side without him stopping him. Every part of Will's body was set ablaze, and when he felt a hand making its way inside his shirt through an open button and touching his bare belly, he thought he would pass out in pleasure.

––Not yet ––he told himself, not realizing he said it out loud.

––I'm sorry ––Sonny helped him back up and straightened his hair––. I couldn't help it. Ninety years is a long wait.

––Very much so ––Will caved, straightening and buttoning again the one loose button in the lower half of his shirt.

He didn't have the slightest doubt now. Sonny Kiriakis might not look like the Jackson he remembered made him drool when he was much younger, but now he knew that he had found the man of his dreams. That was what William wanted. Now the only question left unanswered is _why._


	11. Chapter 11

**Like I said, I would post this second part of the encounter very soon, and when better than on the start of my "monthversary". (My boyfriend and I like that word) So... enjoy, review :)**

**PD: Sonny might have struck out, but I believe someone else is gonna get lucky tonight ;)**

Just before the Mercedes arrived at Washington Square Park, Sonny's driver stopped in front of a cobble pathway. Tall iron gates kept intruders and unwanted vehicles outside the passage about a block away, flanked by houses which, covered in ivy, and in comparison to the skyscrapers around, looked like picturesque huts. Old lanterns lit the way, and colorful flowers hung from the balconies. The entire scenery looked charmingly old-fashioned, like an illustration out of children's book. The name of the street read: WASHINGTON MEWS.

Will got out of the car and went back in time. Everything looked exactly the same as always. Aside from the new shiny motorcycle parked outside one of the houses next door, there wasn't a hint of the 21st century.

––The stable. We're home. ––Sonny said, taking Will's hand and guiding him towards a little white house. They were alone in the pathway. Even the loud noise from the traffic coming from Fifth Avenue had turned off, and the only thing he could hear was his own footsteps in the cobble. When they made it to the red door, Will stopped and looked up to the second story. The green velvet curtains still hung from the windows. He felt his entire body tingle again. This was the place he was meant to look for.

––Here I died ––Will said.

––We both did ––Sonny reminded him, delicately caressing his cheek.

––What happened?

He shook his head. Either he didn't remember, or didn't want to tell him.

––Is the house yours now?

––When I turned thirteen, I asked my father to buy it for me. He thought I had gone insane.

––You knew about me for so long?

––I had known about you for way longer.

* * *

Inside, the house was dark, and Will heard Sonny get inside slowly. Then, lamp by lamp, the room revealed its secret. Wondered, Will let his eyes wander through the house. He recognized his taste in each furniture, and especially, in each artwork. Those were paintings he often saw in his mind, but never really got a chance to paint –– or had he already done it? The place itself was immaculate. It was like the little house had been waiting for his return for almost a century.

––I thought the house burned down ––Will muttered, overwhelmed by nostalgia.

––It did. I took years to put everything as it was.

––But all these stuff… is mine, no?

––They're replicas ––Sonny explained––. Reproductions. I recreated the house by heart.

––You remembered all this?

Everything Will knew about his past was from his visions and his father's notes. William and Jackson still didn't seem too real just yet. But here was the first undeniable proof that they had existed.

––I remember it all. Come ––Sonny invited––. Let's take a look.

* * *

Will went over the first story of the little house with his hands sticked to his sides, fearing to touch anything. A wooden easel stood in the corner, next to it there was a glass drawer filled with cans and cans of paint. Will opened one of the drawers and found it full of different brushes and other painting supplies. On top of the drawer, Will found a charcoal sketch of a young man, a young man who looked exactly like Jackson. He knew William had done that sketch, and touching it made electricity course through his hands. He, for some reason, now knew that Jackson had posed for that sketch, and William had drawn it with so much love in his heart that the painting actually made Will felt a warm sensation spreading through his heart.

––What do you think?

Sonny was sitting at the edge of the sofa, waiting nervously for Will's reaction. He hadn't taken his eyes from him for a single second. His gaze was so intense, just as intense as Jackson's. So intense it felt as if he could see inside of Will.

––You did all this, for _me?_

––Yes ––he responded––. I wanted it to be perfect for when you came back. That way you'd be sure that it is really me. That way we can pick up where we left off.

––You knew I would come to New York?

––Well, there was always the possibility that you were to be born somewhere in China, but I hoped that you were close enough so you could find me again. I got into a buttload of trouble to draw attention to me. I would make my assistant tip the paparazzi each time I went out to grab coffee. I thought that if I allowed them to photograph me, one day you might see me. Of course, that was before the paparazzi allied against me.

––But thanks to them I did found you. I saw you on TV.

––Then it was all worth it ––Sonny smiled such a sweet smile that Will almost had a sugar rush. Sonny took Will's hand a lifted it to his lips. He kissed each knuckle and nuzzled against the back of the hand––. My sweet William, I can't believe you're finally with me again. Aren't you gonna finish your tour?

Will's eyes reluctantly moved from Sonny's smile to a narrow staircase leading to the second floor.

––There are no lamps up there. I kept everything as it was, so you'll need a candle ––he told him––. Take the one on the windowsill.

* * *

Will paused in the top of the stairs. The room was just as he remembered. A full moon hovered over the skylight, and the white sheets emitted silver sparkles. Will got to look at himself in a mirror by the dressing table. It was the only thing that looked out-of-place.

He heard footsteps behind him, and time stood still. He let Sonny retrieve the candle from his hand, and soon the only light left was that of the moon. A warm hand caressed his shoulder. Will turned, closed his eyes, and felt Sonny's lips on his.

––I was waiting for you, William ––he muttered.

Delicate at first, the kiss turned more eager. Will felt his knees flounder, but he didn't fall. For the first time in his life, he was completely, impossibly happy. Regardless, he managed to separate from Sonny.

––Something wrong? ––Sonny asked.

––Not yet. ––Will answered

––I'm sorry, it's just that–

Will interrupted

––I know, don't worry, just… not yet.

* * *

Laid in bed, Will tried to recap all the events of the day. Events that had brought him to the little room of Washington Mews. The glimmer of Sonny in that show, the fire in his grandma's, the opportunistic and drunk guys back at the Apollo. So many coincidences that could not be anything but fate. He hoped to learn why he had been brought here before he'd fall madly in love with the boy lying next to him.

––What do you remember?

Sonny put his arms around him, nuzzling his head in the crook of Will's neck. Will thought that he was asleep. It was late, and the moon was now behind the clouds, leaving the room submerged in darkness.

––I remember you ––Will answered.

––And who else? ––Sonny asked calmly.

––Dr Strickland, a man named Noel…––Will poked his memory––. I remember a little bit about my parents.

––That's it? No one else?

––I don't think so ––he answered––. I don't have that much memories as I should. When I was a kid I had many visions, but I tried to put an end to them. They came back a few months ago.

––You wanted to put _an end_ to them? ––Sonny sounded deeply hurt, and Will was thankful he couldn't see his face––. Why?

––My family is very religious ––Will tried to explain––. They didn't understand, hell, they didn't understand the mere fact that I am gay. They decided to just ignore it, rather than face it, maybe because I never really acted on it back then, which is why I think they wanted the dreams to stop even more, you know? Put an end to all that reminded them of who I really was. But, forget about them, you, however, remember it all, don't you? Talk to me about William and Jackson.

––Where should I start?

––This house ––Will said––. The first thing I remembered was this bedroom.

––Let's see, then. This house… ––he muttered, as if he were evoking the past––. Your grandmother lived in an old mansion in Washington Square Park. This house was it stable. When she died, she left both places to you. You sold the mansion and decided to live here.

––In the stable? What about the horses?

Sonny giggled.

––It wasn't a stable anymore. Every rich family had automobiles. Your grandmother used it as a studio. She was an artist too. That was one of the main reasons you were so close. You're parents were a little bit more… conventional.

––I remember having gotten back together with you here ––Will said––. I was very nervous about anybody seeing you.

––So you do remember our secret rendezvous ––Sonny started to get his fingers inside the buttons of Will's shirt, to touch his bare skin––. I must admit it: I too had though about them a little bit. I mean, back then, of course, you know that being gay meant getting killed by anyone, however, people like us didn't really have to worry about it-

––How's that?

––I don't really know, but for some reason, we were never frowned at, pointed at with disgust and so forth, we could kiss in a crowded place and no one would even look at us. Anyway, you had to worry because it didn't sit well with your parents that you were receiving a young man at your place, so late at night, especially one that didn't have the same social status.

Will took Sonny's hand out and held it.

––You were poor, right? ––he asked.

––Sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you don't ––Sonny explained. It didn't seem to bother him that his moves were getting him nowhere––. Jackson's life wasn't as easy as mine. His parents died when he was very young, and he was shipped from foster home to foster home. His last tutors had him committed to a psychiatric facility. He wouldn't stop talking about his past lives. They thought he had gone crazy. This happened before Dr Strickland found him and took him to New York. Of course, people did find out that Jackson had spent a year in a psych-ward.

––People thought you were crazy? Is that why they accused you…?

Will paused when Sonny suddenly held his breath.

––They accused me of what?

He hadn't meant to bring this up so soon.

––I had a vision. I heard people talking about you and Dr Strickland.

––They said I killed him?

Even though Sonny was next to him, it seemed as if he'd just started to get away.

––Yes ––he admitted. The pause that followed made him know that the explanation wouldn't be as simple as he had hoped.

––August Strickland was a father to me. I owed him everything. I would have never harmed him in any way. And I had no reason to; I didn't even know he had made me his heir. I still think it would have been better if he hadn't. That's how the rumors started. Certain people wanted me gone. They saw the opportunity and took it.

––Is that why we ran away? To get away from the rumors?

––We ran away because I was desperate to settle with you, to find a place where we could be happy together, alone, without anything getting between us.

––But we died before we could leave to Rome.

––Yes.

This last response sounded like him admitting a terrible failure.

––And you don't know how the fire started?

––No ––Sonny declared, with exasperation in his tone––. I never found out, and I still don't know. Back in those days, there weren't fire alarms, and the flames spread pretty quickly.

––Sonny? ––he asked.

––Yes?

––And Christopher Moore?

––I was starting to wonder why you weren't asking. I am a friend of his boyfriend, but I don't know what happened to him. I went to his show the night he disappeared. I said hello and left. As far as I know, Christopher got involved with some very powerful people. I had nothing to do with his disappearance. I've never killed anyone, not in this life, nor any other. Something else we need to get out-of-the-way?

There was. Will couldn't get out of his head the last vision he had about Noel.

––One last question? ––he finally said.

––Go ahead.

––Who was Noel?

When Sonny finally answered, his voice was dull.

––A man we both knew.

––He was in love with you, right?

––Yes ––he answered, in a whisper.

––Were you in love with him? ––Will asked, muttering.

––We had had this conversation before, you know? ––Sonny said. And I don't understand to this day how could you have asked me that. I spent years trying to find you. You were always my first kiss, my first time, my first love, my first everything. You were and are my one and only for all eternity. Noel was nothing to me.

––I'm sorry.

Will searched for Sonny's lips in the dark.

––I love you, William. Don't you understand?

––Will ––he whispered between kisses.

––What?

––That's actually my name now. Just Will.


	12. Chapter 12

–Will.

–Mmm?

Will emerged from a dreamless slumber. When he opened his eyes, he saw Sonny in sitting by the bed in an open nightshirt and denim jeans. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen by eight o'clock in the morning.

–I brought you some coffee. What would you like for breakfast?

–Sleep –he answered, burying his face on a pillow.

–That's not on the menu. You'll need something hardier. It's gonna be a long day. We'll take a trip.

–But I just got here! –Will complained.

–Let's go. Up. –Sonny said laughing. It was a relief to see him in such a good mood after their talk last night–. Where are your things?

–At the Windermere Hotel.

Will lost all hope in getting back to sleep again and turned to him.

–I'll send someone to pick them up. How many suitcases did you bring?

–Just one. –he yawned–. I lost almost all my clothes before I got here.

–Did you lose them? –Sonny asked.

–It's a long story I'm yet to tell you.

–I would love to hear it.

Will lightly bumped his elbow against Sonny's side.

–Maybe later. –Will said.

–OK. Meanwhile, can I take you out shopping?

–I have my money, thank you.

–Will –Sonny caught and held his stare–. You know that my fortune is mere coincidence, don't you? Luck, that's it. The last time, you were the rich one. Next time we might both be broke. So, let that not unsettle you. Now my money is our money. We'll use it for good things and to spend. Come on, get up and get ready.

–Where are you taking me? –he asked.

–It's a secret.

He grinned while he left the room.

* * *

After taking a long, hot shower, Will walked barefoot down the stairs wearing the same shirt as the night before. He found Sonny toasting bagels in the kitchenette by the corner of the first floor, taking plates from the cupboard and arranging the silverware. He hadn't heard him. Will stood next to the door and watched him, fascinated by the movement of his long and tanned arms. It was hard to believe that Sonny Kiriakis could belong to him. So much about him looked so familiar: his sideways smile, the grace with which he moved, the way in which he would not stop staring at him. But everything else was different. Still, Will had never felt so attracted to anyone else. He needed all the moderation he could gather to stop himself from running across the room and throw his arms around him.

There was a sound coming from the front door: then, the iron slot opened up with a metallic sound and a handful of letters fell to Will's bare feet. He kneeled to pick them up, and his eyes stumbled upon a white envelope. In the sender's name was a printed silver snake biting its own tail.

–Just in time with the mail –Sonny said, looking up from his chore.

Will placed the small pile of mail on top of the table in front of him, with the white envelope on top.

–Is this from the Ouroboros Society? –he asked.

Sonny kissed him in the forehead and looked at the envelope.

–Looks like it.

–Are you a member again?

–I signed myself in a few years ago. Thought I might find you there.

–Funny. –Will commented–. I was thinking about going there today.

Sonny went numb for a moment.

–Have you been in touch with the Society?

–Not yet.

–Then don't waste your time.

To Will's ears, this sounded too much like an order.

–Why not? –he alleged–. Maybe it could help me remember more things.

–The Ouroboros Society is not what it used to be –Sonny said–. The people who run it now don't hold the smallest resemblance to Strickland. He wanted to help people. Now it all comes down to social status. And if you weren't born with a special ability, you're considered a pariah.

–Really?

–Of course –someone knocked on the door. When instinctively Will turned to ask who it was, Sonny grabbed his wrist–. No. –he insisted, letting him go when Will flinched at the pain–. Sorry. Let me see who it is.

Sonny half-opened the door, barely enough to see the road. He exchanged a few words with the man at the other side, from which he received a suitcase.

–Your things are here –he announced.

Will dismissed the suitcase.

–I'm not allowed to open the door?

–We need to be careful –Sonny explained–. Well, let's go have breakfast and get ready. We have a long journey ahead of us.

* * *

After breakfast, Will and Sonny went up to the house's roof.

–Is this the destination of our trip?

In the roof a gorgeous balcony had been built. However, Sonny walked him to the edge of the roof.

–Look down. Don't walk too near to the edge.

–What are we looking for? –Will asked.

–Anybody that looks outta place. –Sonny answered.

–I don't get it.

–Paparazzi –Sonny explained–. Sometimes they hang around the stable. A picture of us could land in all the blogs in all the world.

Will furrowed his brows. Even he knew that Sonny's love life wasn't that big of a deal. If photographers were hanging around the stable, it would be due to Christopher Moore.

–Is that why you didn't want me to open the door this morning?

Sonny's face was indescribable while he continued to stare at the street.

–Like I said before, we need to be careful. Everybody's against me these days, I don't want you to be dragged into it.

Will examined the near area. There was nobody near them.

–Well, I don't see anything suspicious.

Sonny kept looking.

–That's the thing. Sometimes you can't see them. They're masters of disguise.

–How are we going to avoid people we can't even see?

–How far can you jump? –Sonny asked, pointing to the open gap between his house and the one next to it.

–You've got to be kidding!

–I'm dead serious. –Sonny said, with a lighter mood–. I can assure you, it's easier than it looks.

They walked near the edge and looked to the space a little wider than five feet between both rooftops.

–You're cuckoo for cocoa puffs if you really think I'm going to jump over there –Will replaid.

Sonny stole a tender kiss from Will's lips.

–I love all those southern expressions of yours –he said as he walked away–. But please tell me they didn't turn you into a scaredy-cat. You used to do things like these for fun.

–Not true! –Will insisted.

–Well, maybe not. But I don't recall you being so whiney. Try it.

He took a few steps back, took flight and jumped. Standing by the other side, he stretched his arms for Will. He shook his head in signal of frustration and signed him to move backwards. Then he held his breath and jumped. A second later, he landed on his foot, joyful and ready to jump again.

After jumping through the rooftops of three other houses, Will and Sonny got to the end of the line. They got down the fire-escape and got to a small patio with exit to the street. A silver Mercedes picked them up on the corner of University Place and Eighth. They were able to sneak into it without much trouble, aside from the college guys that were still looking for their phones while Will and Sonny got inside the car.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the car turned on Midtown Tunnel. Full speed under the East River, with every minute, they driving away from Manhattan.

–Are you taking me to Queens? –Will asked when he saw the signs at the other side of the tunnel.

Sonny faked a pout.

–You don't like Queens? I've always thought it was the most romantic neighborhood.

–Then come closer so you have a better look.

Will sneaked to Sonny's side, looking out the window nervously, as Sonny was inches away from his face.

–Close your eyes. –Sonny said.

–Why? –Will asked, in the middle of a nervous giggle.

–Just close them, please.

Will obeyed. And once he did, he felt something silky around his eyes. The world was now dark.

–Don't look. –Sonny said, bringing him closer and kissing his head. He leaned against his chest, his other senses heightened as never before. When he grazed accidentally Sonny's leg with his hand, he left it there, wondered because he was allowed to do it. Never before had a person been his. He was dying to find out how far could this get.

* * *

The car stopped and the driver opened the door. Sonny took the blind from Will and helped him out. They were at a landing strip with a plane in front of them.

–Here's the family jet. –Sonny said.

Will barely smiled.

–You're kidnapping me?

Sonny looked like he didn't know what to say.

–I was hoping you'd come willingly.

–Are we going far? –Will inquired.

–Depends on how you define _far_.

Sonny looked disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm.

–Ought I had brought a change of underwear? –he nervously kid.

–You can always wear mine.

Will blushed at the thought that they could in fact wear each other's clothing. They were roughly the same height and built.

–And the Passport? –Will asked.

–Don't worry about that –Sonny assured–. Passports are for general public. I haven't used one in ages.

* * *

Will walked up the jet's ladder and fastened his seatbelt in one of the front plushy seats. It wasn't until the plane took off that the panic kicked in. Just under a few hours after his first kiss, he was flying to god knows where with a person suspected of murder, and not just one, but another one from his past life. Everything was happening too fast, Will thought. He had jumped in without taking a look first, and now he was trapped. If anything bad happened, it would be entirely his fault. However, it only took a look from the brown-haired beauty sitting next to him, looking at him with those gorgeous shiny brown eyes to ease all his doubts. But maybe, this could be the start of everything I've always dreamed off, Will concluded.

Beyond his window, miles and miles of shiny ocean were in below him. Wherever he would be going, was East, at the other side of the Atlantic.


	13. Chapter 13

"Please don't go". The voice was soothing, hard to resist. "Your place is here, with me. He won't love you like I will. Please. I can't lose you again".

––WILL ––he felt a hand caressing his hair––. We're almost there.

––Where?

––You'll see ––Sonny forsaw––. What were you dreaming about? You mumbled in your sleep.

––Was it a dream? ––he asked, still fighting the heaviness of waking up––. I could have sworn I was speaking to somebody.

––To whom?

The question hit him like a slap on the face.

––I don't know. With a guy. ––the one thing Will knew for sure was that it wasn't Jackson's voice––. You're not jealous of a dream, right?

––Of course not ––Sonny answered, with a not-so-convincing smile.

* * *

IT WAS DARK when they landed in an airport just like any other. Although the car that picked them up was identical to the one that drove them to the landing strip. Will slid his way to the back seat next to Sonny and leaned his head to lay in his shoulder. He closed his eyes and heard the buzz of the wheels against the pavement, too tired to ask any questions. Never had he felt so tired. A horn briefly startled him. Outside, under the moon, a monotonous landscape traveled quickly as the car drove.

* * *

WILL WOKE UP THE NEXT morning in the bedroom of a small but impeccably decorated apartment, with old and wide hardwood planks, bookshelves full of antique volumes lined with leather. The white linen pajama shirt he was wearing was just the type he would have bought had it been sold back in Salem. But he hadn't seen this shirt before and he didn't recall putting it on.

Sonny was sitting next to a couple of open doors that lead to a balcony bathed by the sun, reading a book. The demon with a malevolent face in the cover held a wheel in his claws.

––Where am I? ––Will asked, even though he already knew.

Sonny closed the book and smiled mischievously.

––Why don't you find out for yourself? ––he responded, pointing to the open doors.

The apartment was in front of an oval piazza with three fountains in the centre. In the lower floor of the old buildings surrounding the piazza, foreigners were being attended at café. Will saw from the balcony three jumping blonde children splattering water from one of the fountains while their angered parents read a map. William and Jackson had met in this site ninety years ago. Beyond the tourists in sneaks and shorts, nothing had changed. In a way, Will was waiting for the rolling hat to appear in the middle of the piazza.

––It's the Piazza Navona ––he whispered, looking at Sonny, who had stood up next to him in the balcony––. Is this your apartment?

––Yep. You like it? ––he asked.

––It's beautiful ––Will answered.

––He really is. ––Sonny said, looking directly at Will's eyes. He then looked a little more to the left and began talking ––I was fifteen when I came here, and it was the first place that truly felt like home to me. My mother lived back then in Tuscany, and I ran away from her villa. I took a train to Rome, thinking about how to go back to New York with my friends. But when I arrived here, I no longer wanted to leave. Of course, a couple days later, a friend of my mom's saw me at the Ritz, and her bodyguard busted me. But when I turned eighteen, the first thing I did was buy this apartment. Now I come here every chance I get.

––Why'd you ran way?

––That's not important. Let me show you something ––he put one arm around Will's shoulder and began pointing the contour of the piazza––. You see the peculiar shape of this piazza? Does it remind you of something?

––I don't know ––he admitted. The heat coming from Sonny's hand in his shoulder was not enabling him to focus.

––It's the shape of a running track. Know why? Because the piazza was built over a stadium to which Romans would attend and watch the games. There were also chariot races, and sometimes they would flood the stadium for naval battles. Now it's barely a shadow of what it used to be two thousand years ago. Nowadays, most buildings are constructed with stone from the stadium. Everything is still here. In Rome, the past changes its shapes, but it never goes away. Each time period leaves its mark. The city is the same. You can see thousands of years of history in a miniscule church.

––Like us ––Will spoke quietly.

––Exactly. Although some of us go way before Rome. Would you like take a walk? Would you allow me to show you around?

––Sure, but before, could you help me check my messages? And email? I'm sure my phone won't work here in Italy.

Sonny palmed himself on the forehead.

––Oh man! My phone! I knew I had forgotten something. Don't worry, we'll take care of it first thing in the morning. For now, let's enjoy our first day together in almost a hundred years.

WHILE THEY WALKED through the streets, holding hands, Sonny made the whole city come to life for him. Describing exuberant gardens, luxurious baths that had once surrounded the round and hard temple now know as the Pantheon and, with so much detail only eye-witnesses can give you, Sonny told Will the stories of bloody battles that took place in the Coliseum, where in one life a blonde Prince fell in love with the fighting gladiator of the battle he attended, the Prince was able to convince his father to stop the fight and talk to the brave Roman warrior. They met at one of the holding cells, where the gladiator instantly recognized the golden curls of his longtime lover, they were able to hold each other on the exact place, and make love for the first time in that life. Unfortunately, the gladiator still had to end the fight, while the Prince watched in horror the outcome, his lover had apparently won the battle, however it all was a trick of the opponent who rose from the floor and stabbed the gladiator in the back. The Prince ran to his body and cradled him in his arms, he was the last thing the gladiator saw, and he left the world with a smile on his face and the promise of finding his lover again. It was all sealed with a gentle kiss on the lips.

Will was so impressed by how much Sonny knew about their past, he loved hearing these stories, although some were a little heartbreaking, but still, it was just like in his dreams. Sonny seemed to know every street, every twist and turn in Rome. Italian women that walked by the couple looked at him as if he were a god materialized on the streets of Rome, and Will noted that by the way they looked at him and their handhold, they were a. cursing fate for rendering Sonny unavailable to them and b. wondering how was it possible for Sonny to have been claimed by a mundane mortal.

While the golden light in the last hours of the afternoon danced in the Roman trees, they walked to the top of mount Aventino and gazed at the river running under it. A group of tourists surprised them kissing at the garden of a Monastery, and they ran laughing to a piazza in front of a medieval church. They entered and walked towards a gigantic image carved in marble that looked ages and ages old. Round and blunt, the sculpture represented a bearded face with empty eyes and an open mouth.

––It's the Boca della Verità ––Sonny explained––. The mouth of truth. They say if you lie while your hand is inside of it, it bites you. Wanna give it a try?

––No, thanks ––Will answered. Something about the image unsettled him. He was afraid of what was inside of it.

––Then I'll do it first ––Sonny said, putting his fingers inside the statue's mouth. ––Anything you want to ask me?

There was. But the questions that rushed to Will's lips would have destroyed a perfect day. And there was a chance that Will really didn't want to listen to the answers to his questions.

––No. ––he responded, and it was true as soon as he said it. They guys from the pictures of Sonny in the magazines and that Noel-guy that fell in love with Jackson faded away from his mind, along with Christopher Moore.

––That's one of the many things I've always loved about you. You're so sweet and… innocent.

He laughed even harder when Will hit him in the arm.

AS SOON as the sun set, Romans began to wander the streets, with the sole purpose of seeing and be seen. Teenagers moved in bewildered groups, young couples held babies and mature women evoked youth in fur miniskirts and high heels. Not so far away from the apartment, Will and Sonny split from the crowd and walked towards a small restaurant. It was windowless and with no doors, it only had rectangular holes in the side of the old building. Dinners were sitting in a large and rustic wooden table, and the only light came from hundreds of glowing candles. In the ground, the centre, an old mosaic showed a god driving a chariot, as he was squeezing the wrist of a frightened young man. As they were walked to their sits, Will made sure not to step on it.

––Have we been here before? ––Will whispered once they were sited––. That mosaic…

––Recognize it?

Will nodded. There was something about the picture that scared and excited him at the same time.

––I thought you would ––Sonny said. Took Will's palm and began writing lines on it, as if he were reading an old story written in his skin––. There was one just like it in a villa in Athens. The owner of the house was rich and powerful. Some called him wizard, although why wasn't clear. But his neighbors knew well to avoid him when he came out. They said their minds would cloud whenever he was around. Businesses would close when he was a client. Families would split up when he came to visit.

"In one of those visits he met a young man from a distinguished family and fell madly in love with him. He decided to offer his father great wealth in exchange of him, to which his father couldn't refuse, besides, it seemed like the man cared deeply for his son. The young man was too young to judge accurately and thought he loved him back. But the older man began to get worried about the young man changing his mind. The idea of losing him would almost drive him crazy, so he decided to look him up on his villa. For various years, he spent his days painting works of art the world would never see."

"One day, when the wizard wasn't around, the villa caught fire. No one had seen the wizard's lover in years, so naturally, everyone fled without him. Everyone except one of the servants. He rushed to his holding place and found him almost dead, he took him in his arms to the house of two of his friends, where he nursed him back to health. The young man and the servant fell in love when he got better, and once they were in travelling conditions, they fled to Rome. The wizard spent the rest of his days looking for him."

––Is that story real?

––In essence, yes ––Sonny answered––. I might've edited a little bit.

––It's about us, right?

Sonny looked at him with so much warmth in his chocolate-brown eyes.

––Yes.

––How long ago was that?

––Julius Caesar died a little bit earlier than our escape to Rome. According to current calendar time, it was 44 b.C.

A million questions began to appear in Will's mind.

––So we've known each other for over two thousand years?

––Maybe more. My memories before our time in Greece is a little blurry.

––And we haven't changed in all that time?

––A little. Every life changes us a little bit more. But our essence is still the same. Like Rome: it has changed a lot since 44 b.C. but in a lot of ways, it's still the same.

––Everyone comes back over and over again?

––I hardly think so ––Sonny answered––. I don't think there's a lot. Only those of us who have something keeping us here.

––What keeps you here?

––You.

AFTER HAVING A LITTLE bit of wine, which was perfectly legal since in Italy you can drink if you're older than sixteen years old, Will was still trying to wrap his head around the whole reincarnation process.

––How does it work, then? ––he asked, blushing lightly due to the wine. ––How do you find people again?

––The only thing I know is that we attract people we've loved before. Is there anybody in your life you've felt particularly drawn to? Anyone you liked as soon as you met?

Will thought of Chad and nodded.

––Then maybe you knew him before.

––And you and me, we met in every single life?

The sadness in Sonny's face was palpable.

––I wish it were that simple. I look for you every single life, but I don't always find you. And sometimes I find you too late.

––Too late?

It was a possibility that Will hadn't considered.

––In 1885 I found you in Germany. My father was a rich English trader. As soon as I could I insisted he made put me in charge of his Germany offices. I hadn't been working there for three days when I stumbled upon a peasant that fainted on the street in front of me. I grabbed him before a cart ran him over and I took him to my hotel. It was you. A dark-haired version of you. You had walked over fifty hundred kilometers to Berlin, and caught a fever in the way. I did all I could to save you, but two weeks later you died in my arms. I caught the fever too and died not much longer than you.

––That's awful! ––Will exclaimed, blinking in order to stop himself from crying, as if the pain were fresh.

––Yeah, but we at least were able to spend some wonderful days together. Two lives previous to that, you already had a lover, and he…

––Already had a lover? ––Will interrupted––. Why didn't I wait for you? How could there be anybody else?

––Let's see if I can explain. You were born with special gifts you know: you can draw and paint, right?

––Yes ––Will said, wondering what this had to do with anything.

––These gifts are gifts that have moved from one life to the other. Talents such as your own are very rare, even though not so much as you may believe. That's why Mozart already played piano before he stopped wearing diapers. Or why there's always a seven year-old math prodigy on TV.

"I have a gift too. I don't know how to write operas or do math in my head. But I remember stuff. Most people forget their past lives. But for some reason, I never lose my memories. They're always with me. So I always know I have to look for you. However, sometimes you don't remember me. And I'm not the only one that finds you irresistible. In fact, I suspect that that's another reason why I keep coming back.

He stopped, drank some wine, leaving Will in suspense.

––Which is…

––Keeping the competition away.

––You can't be serious!

––Maybe not. But I do vow this: now that we've found each other, I will not allow anything to get in our way.

He grazed his knee against Will's under the table, and he had to drink some wine to quench the fire burning by his lower half.

* * *

On the way home, satiated by the pasta and spiked by the wine, they walked through alleys and dark entries to kiss long and anxious kisses. They were pushed up against walls making out like horny teenagers. When they got home, Sonny lifted him up in his arms and carried him to be in the dark, his mouth in his while his hands unbuttoned his shirt. He laid Will on top of the white and fresh sheets agitated by the breeze coming in from the balcony. He felt his shirt being lifted from his shoulders, and trembled when he felt a warm hand in his naked belly.

––I love you ––Sonny whispered, and Will thought he might pass out from the pleasure.

**Next chapter will be my first ever love scene… I'm going to try and make it the best it can be. And no, I won't be tapping in personal experiences (Can anyone help me lol?)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey guys, I'm sorry for this, but I just couldn't manage to write an explicit love scene between our lovebirds... I tried, really, I'm so so sorry for not accomplishing what I promised, I'm really sorry. So, I decided to turn this into a T rated story. Please, try to understand that it's really hard and every time I tried I couldn't stop myself from blushing... sorry. But, hope it doesn't take from the story :)**

Will was alone. The balcony doors were open, and below, the piazza was still quiet. He looked at the bathroom door, which was open, and heard noises coming from the living room. The apartment was empty. He asked himself if the last few days had been nothing but a dream. Everything seemed too good to be true, and Will had never been known for his good fortune. Could it be that everything he's feeling… be true? The warmth in his heart, the new scent coming from all over his body, the feeling of fullness mixed with a magnificent soreness. Could he have found the one? Is Sonny Kiriakis the one? Is he finally going to be happy?

His eyes then landed on the clothes Sonny had worn the previous night, thrown neatly in the back of a chair, and he then remembered immediately the events of the evening. He was happy that he was alone, so no one could see the wild crimson blush taking over his entire skin. He didn't know exactly why he was blushing: nervousness, anxiety, shame or the craving for more. If what Sonny had told him the previous night, this wasn't the first time they did things like these. But he wished to remember how they worked.

He left the bed and went looking in his suitcase for a change of wardrobe. He had just slipped on a pair of denim jeans when he heard the main entrance door open and Sonny making his way in the kitchen. He tiptoed his way to the living room and reached the kitchen door just when Sonny had shut a cabinet door. He looked so relaxed and majestic in his wrinkled white shirt, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The memory of Sonny's strong and softly hairy chest under that shirt made Will felt like blacking out.

––Good morning ––Sonny told him, while he bent over the grocery bags he had placed on the counter––. You're up early. We were short on provisions, so I went to the market. Would you like to have breakfast? I can make a delicious omelette.

––What's in the cupboard? ––Will asked, trying to keep a firm voice.

––I save some euros in a box for sudden trips and emergencies ––he grabbed his hand and pulled him to him––. How are you?

Will sighed in joy while Sonny leaned in to kiss him. It was impossible to think clearly when Sonny was around.

––Perfect ––he answered.

––Hell yeah ––he laughed and released him––. So, what would you like to do today? Is there something in Rome you're dying to see again?

––How about the Sistine Chapel? ––he said, taking six eggs out and a piece of cheese from one of the groceries bags. It was the first place in Rome that came to mind.

––I've never been ––Sonny admitted––. I not that into churches.

––Great! We can see it together.

––It's gonna be crowded. ––Sonny warned.

––We'll wait in line. You don't mind, do you?

––It's not the waiting that I'm concerned with. It's the tourists. American tourists.

Will narrowed his eyes.

––Don't tell me you're one of those snobs that gripe about their fellow Americans…

––I don't care for my compatriot. Appearing in their pictures does. I'd rather we not call any attention to us while we're here.

––You know what? If we're together, anywhere, someone's bound to take a picture of us…––he stopped when a nasty thought crossed his mind––. This isn't about Christopher Moore, right? You're not running away from the cops…

Sonny frowned.

––No, I'm not hiding from the police, Will. I just want to protect you.

––I don't see what harm could a picture of me cause ––he couldn't care less for the Sistine Chapel, but there was something they needed to be clear on––. You can wear a hat and shades. We can't live hiding.

Will let on that Sonny wasn't going to win.

––Fine ––Sonny said, awkwardly––. But I refuse to pose with tourists.

––OK.

––And we'll spend the rest of the day not sightseeing.

––Sounds good.

––No complains?

––Not one ––Will answered.

––And you'll let me buy you anything I want

Will narrowed his eyes and cracked a laugh.

––We'll see.

––Well, go sit on the balcony and prepare yourself for the best omelette you've ever had.

IT WAS THE BEST omelette that Will Horton had ever had. So as the coffee, the orange juice and even the toasted bread tasted better than ever. But given the company, the view and the memory of the previous night, he could have eaten a piece of cardboard and it would have still tasted like heaven.

––Have you ever made this before? ––he asked, trying hard not to talk with his mouth open.

––No. I guess you learn something new each life. My mother taught me how to make a few dishes. She was a famous chef before she married my dad.

––Where is she now?

––She's an alcoholic ––Sonny answered with great ease.

––Oh, I'm sorry.

––Don't be ––Sonny said––. You got the award for tough childhoods. Being possessed by Satan at the age of eight can't be easier than my case.

––It wasn't as bad as it sounds ––Will kid, surprised that he was now calm ––. At least I had Chad. But could you imagine living in a place where everyone thinks you're crazy and that the devil's living inside you?

––Preposterous! ––Sonny shook his head to the idea––. Everyone knows that the devil's not south. He's in New York.

––You're kidding, right? ––Will asked finally.

––Of course. Oh, who's Chad, by the way? ––Sonny inquired, looking down while he played with the food on his plate. Will tried not to laugh. Never had he made someone feel jealous.

––My best friend. We had a business together, art business.

––Oh, a fellow artist ––Sonny spread butter on the same loaf of bread for the third time––. What's he like?

––Well… tall, dark, handsome, built, quarterback for the football team, funny, charming, brilliant ––Will paused to savor a long and paused bite––. Oh, and straight.

––Hallelujah! ––Sonny wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead––. I was starting to worry. Does he have a girlfriend?

––With a best friend like me in a city like Salem? ––Will mocked. ––Even if there were people who didn't think he was crazy, it would be surprising if any of them would be willing to be his girlfriend. He's not going to have a happy life if he stays there.

––I wouldn't worry. I have a feeling he'll find someone soon ––Sonny said.

––You think? ––Will asked, trying to decipher what Sonny meant.

––If Chad's your best friend, why hadn't I heard of him before?

––We kinda have a fight before I left Salem. I told his father a secret I wasn't supposed to tell. I was just trying to do what's best for him…

––But he didn't see it that way.

––No

––Funny, right? You try to do what's best for the people you love, and you only get into trouble for your efforts.

Will cocked an eyebrow.

––We aren't getting back on the whole taking a picture of us deal, right?

––Why would I drive us back into such an unpleasant topic of conversation like that one. ––Sonny innocently asked.

SONNY BARELY SPOKE once they got out of the Chapel and walked towards the river. He had his head down, as if his thought were weighing him down, and it looked as though he was dragging his feet. While they were crossing the Ponte Sant'Angelo, he took Will's hand and reduced their speed. Below them, the waters from the Tiber showcased a wobbly view of the world above. He put his hands at the sides of Will's head, leaned in and kissed him. It was a melancholic type of kiss, like the one soldiers, marines and men with dangerous lives were used to.

––Will you stay here forever with me, Will? ––he asked, while Will's eyes were closed. It almost sounded like he was begging. ––We could be happy here in Rome. Let's not go back to New York, please?

Will laughed nervously.

––But, wouldn't they kick us out eventually? I mean, I don't even speak Italian

––That's easy to solve, and we wouldn't need to work.

––You're serious, aren't you?

Sonny's intensity was starting to worry him.

––If you say the word, we could get married anywhere. Think about it, our first time truly married. Please. I don't want to go back.

––I don't get it. Why not?

While he waited for an answer, Will heard the distinctive sound of a camera taking a picture. Two girls with North Carolina University were various meters away, covering their mouths with their hands, giggling like little girls. Will walked towards them.

––Would you like a picture with him? ––the girls were too shocked to move. –– It's OK ––he calmed them––. I'm Mr Kiriakis' personal assistant. Stand next to him, and I'll take the picture.

––Really? ––One of them fearfully murmured while giving his phone to him.

––Sure–– he answered. While the girls shyly walked towards Sonny, Will was very careful to delete all images of themselves. ––Say cheese! ––he ordered, pretending to take a picture.

––I'm sorry for that ––Will told Sonny once the girls went away––. I promised you wouldn't pose for any pictures. Where are we going now?

Sonny ignored the question.

––Will you?

––What?

Will was stalling.

––Stay in Rome. With me.

––I don't know. Maybe ––he said, sighing. He thought about Chad and his mother and whether he could leave them forever––. You're going to have to let me think about it.

––Maybe that's good enough for now ––Sonny got back to his good humour. He put the cap back on and the shades and offered Will his hand––. I will give you until tomorrow to make up your mind. Now it's my turn to lead this walk.

THEY GOT BACK TO THE APARTMENT, where Will unwrapped the painting that Sonny bought for him, and placed it against a pile of books. He then unpacked the clothing he had from New York and stuck the suitcase under the bed. He had the feeling he wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

––Seems like we didn't bring enough clothes for you ––Sonny said, standing next to the door, looking at Will. ––We can go shopping tomorrow if you'd like.

––That's sounds nice. I would also like to buy some art supplies.

––Good idea. ––Sonny plopped on the bed––. We'll buy the apartment next door and turn it into a studio just for you. And then, if you'd like, we could look for a little shop where you could sell your paintings, and even place a coffeehouse there too… Isn't that what you've always wanted?

It was, Will thought while he laid down next to Sonny's warm and cozy body, letting him wrap his arms around him, nestling him in a warm and delicious cocoon. It was exactly what he had always wanted.


	15. Chapter 15

Will woke up alone for the second morning in a row. Once he had bathed and dressed, Sonny still hadn't returned. He had breakfast in the balcony and saw that, below, coffeehouses were just opening. With a double hot double espresso in his hand, he looked at the rooftops of a city he would be calling his own soon. This was his reward for a decade of struggle. He had been teased and bullied with hatred, bigotry and solitude. But now all of that was in the past, and Salem was an ocean away. He had made his way towards the fountain in the piazza, and towards the only person he had loved for over two thousand years. This was, thought Will, where all his visions had lead him. This is what William wanted since the very beginning.

Will left a note for Sonny, took his bag and went out to wander the narrow and labyrinth-like streets of Rome. Without Sonny by his side, they didn't seem so welcoming. The old buildings were pressed tightly around each other, and sometimes they seemed to bent over him to choke him in their arms. Twice he heard footsteps coming near him too rapidly. When he would turn, nobody would be there and the footstep sounds would cease, but the feeling of being watched wouldn't.

He paused at the Via Giustiniani in front of a store that seemed to focus on plastic gladiators with bulky loincloths, and he thought about getting one for Chad as a gag gift. While she pondered the counter, he saw that the salesperson was a very old man, mopping the floor. With each minute his activity seemed to slow down, losing his attention to the small TV stuck to the wall in front of him. A blonde and busty anchorwoman was giving the morning flash. Over her right shoulder the picture of a young man appeared, rapidly replaced by one of Italy's prime minister in an electric blue Speedo. Will gasped and stepped back. The face was that of Christopher Moore.

Will walked away from the store and hurried towards the apartment. Was he imagining or was he losing it? Why had Christopher Moore appeared in Italian television? His heart was pounding so forcefully he almost didn't hear a familiar voice coming from a nearby café. The words were undistinguishable, but the tone seemed professional. Intending to give his love a happy surprise he walked towards him, but then sat down in a table, one out of Sonny's sight, when he started to hear surprising words.

–I assume you watched the news –he heard Sonny say–. I'll go back to New York. The DA says that I need to be there for questioning again… I _would stay_, but they now know where I am. Which means here we go again. Tad told me it would be ready by the fifteenth. I asked him to set the piece I hadn't seen yet aside… Yeah, he's OK. It wasn't precisely unexpected. He has known for a while now… Well, did you talk to the _Times_? The _Observer_? Great. Keep working. I'll get back in touch this afternoon, when the plane lands... What?... The guy in the photo? With blonde hair? He's nobody. Someone I picked up here. I'll see you in New York.

Will looked around the counter and saw Sonny sitting in a table, sipping on a cappuccino and yammering at the phone. It wasn't the same man with whom he had slept with, the one that had asked him to stay with him in Rome. He was witnessing the real Sonny Kiriakis, a man who didn't really care about insulting him or lying to him about his phone being missing. Will always thought of himself as the type to not take bull from nobody. But the rage that he had been waiting for never came. He just felt stupid. Used. He needed to look back on the three previous days, and reevaluate their meaning.

Sonny putting his phone away snapped Will out of his train of thought. If he was going back to the apartment, Will needed to be there first. It was the only way to catch him in the act without ending up looking like a stalker. He walked the opposite way and through the parallel street to the Via Giustiniani. Once in the Piazza Navona, he walked up the stairs, threw the note he left Sonny behind and walked towards the balcony when Sonny walked through the door.

–We made headlines –he said as he was walking up. He looked overwhelmed, even the mischievous sparkle in his eyes was gone. Without it, he really looked like a different person.

–What?

Sonny placed a newspaper on his lap. It was folded to highlight a black and white picture. Even though he didn't understand the words, Will didn't have any trouble recognizing the back of his head. And Sonny's profile couldn't have been any clearer. The young women by the bridge outside the Sistine Chapel had taken a picture of them as they walked away.

–It was sent to an American blog yesterday afternoon. It made newspapers this morning. Everybody wants to know who you are.

Will threw the newspaper to the ground.

–So? It's not like my face appears.

–No, but now everybody knows we're in Rome. I spoke to a colleague of mine, and even he asked about my mystery fella.

This was the chance Will was waiting for.

–You spoke to a colleague of yours? I thought you said you lost your phone.

Sonny sighed and pulled his phone from his shirt pocket.

–I altered the truth. I wanted you all to myself for a couple of days.

–You could have at least told me. My mom hasn't heard from me in days, she must be freaking out.

–I'm sorry. I did not think of that. Would you like to call her?

He handed Will the phone, but Will ignored him.

–Why'd you lie?

–Everybody says white lies –Sonny answered emphatically–. I just wanted everything to be perfect. I should've realized that…

–What?

–I need to go back to New York.

–And what am I supposed to do meanwhile?

–Stay here –he answered–. Have a good time.

–I'm not staying all alone in Italy. Besides, you said you didn't want to go back to New York.

Everything had been a fantasy, sweet lies told to a naïve boy too wanting to believe them.

–I don't _want_ to go back. I _have_ to. Something came up, and I need to take care of it –Sonny said, pulling his suitcase from the closet.

–If you're leaving, so am I –Will insisted.

–No –Sonny repeated.

–I…

Before he could continue, Will felt his eyes on fire and his legs giving out.

* * *

_William saw outside the curtains that covered the balcony. The moon was out, and its reflection showered the piazza. At the other side of the street, something moved, and the light briefly revealed pale skin. The figure had been there all night, watching over the house from across the street. Barely had it moved in hours._

_He wished so fiercely that Jackson were here by his side. They hadn't spent one night together since reports started harassing him about Strickland. Jackson had warned him that some diaries may have put surveillance on the house. But somehow he knew that that man was no reporter._

_He went over his mental list. Front door closed. Windows locked. No way in. He laid back on his chair near the window and waiting for dawn._


	16. Chapter 16

**So after a few weeks *cough: month* I'm back with The Eternal Ones. I'm sorry for the wait! Please please review. I love hearing your thoughts! :)**

Over most of the flight back to New York, Will feigned sleep. He needed time to think. To know how to deal with everything he had learned. And with the window shutter low and his face pressed against a pillow, it seemed easier to hide his tears.

It was almost certain now that Sonny Kiriakis wasn't the person he had hoped. His lies may have started small with something as mundane as the phone deal, but now they had gone too far. What scared Will most wasn't the easiness with which Sonny could conceal the truth, but how anxious he had been to believe him. He knew exactly what his grandmother would say: that he had turned exactly like his mother. He had been blinded by lust. And in her own way, Marlena would have been right. Will had fallen by the same childish lies that seduced Sami Brady: true love, soul mates and "happily ever afters".

Maybe the visions about William's life had driven him to Sonny, but maybe it wasn't love that had driven him there. While the plain started landing, Will decided he'd keep looking for the answers he needed. He wouldn't allow a broken heart to get in his way.

* * *

IT WAS THREE in the afternoon when they arrived at the little house next to Washington Square Park. Fortunately, the street was empty. Sonny's driver got their luggage inside the house and stepped aside waiting for instructions. Sonny got up to the bedroom and returned a short while after with a black backpack in his shoulder.

- I have to go out for a sec –he informed Will-. I guess I'll be back before dinner. It might not be the best idea if you left while I'm gone. James'll stay with you. If you need anything, let him know and he'll get it for you.

The driver, a built man with a bulldog face, nodded and stepped towards the living room. Will had to look carefully for the words to express his horror.

- I don't need a babysitter – he hissed.

- Trust me – Sonny replied, bending to kiss his forehead-. Do what I say. This town is dangerous, and you're not alright.

- Dangerous? I lived here for twenty years! – Will alleged

- Yes, and you also died here. We don't want that happening again. What if you were to blackout in the middle of the street? Do you have any idea what could happen to you in a city like Manhattan?

- Nothing's gonna happen to me!

- Exactly. – Sonny said firmly-. Nothing at all.

* * *

A SHORT WHILE after the door slamming, Will sit down on the living room's desk and opened as he could the laptop he found there. He spent a few moments cursing under his breath while he pretended to surf the net. James was sitting in the sofa, staring at a fixed point in space. Will knew he needed a plan. He needed to get out of there. If not for anything else, because his mental health and self respect made him.

- James –Will said dragging the word, with his deepest southern accent. The man growled and looked up-. I didn't eat anything in the plane, and I'm starving buddy. Could you go out and get me a burger anywhere?

- No problem – James answered. Using the slightest amount of muscles possible he took his phone out and pressed a single button-. Mr Horton wants a hamburger –he paused and pressed the phone to his chest-. Would you like French fries and a soda, sir?

- 'Course. – Will answered completely frustrated.

- Fries and soda. – James barked. Shut his phone and put it back in his shirt.

Just as he was getting back to the computer, Will heard his phone buzz. He rushed to his bag and took it out. An unknown number from Salem appeared on the screen, and Will's heart jumped when he realized it could be Chad.

- Hello?

- Will Horton! – his mother quacked whenever she was upset-. How dare you not call me in three days? Do you have any idea how worried I've been?

- Sorry –Will answered, distracted. He was hardly in the mood for a lecture. While his mother complained, he looked at the computer and clicked in one of the explorer's favorite pages. A gossip blog displayed on the screen. A giant copy of the picture of him and Sonny at the Ponte Sant'Angelo.

- Where have you been? Are you OK? Why are you not in your hotel? – Sami asked.

- I'm staying with a friend. – He explained. –It's cheaper.

- What friend? How do you have friends in New York? Is it somebody from that snake club?

- Ouroboros Society. And yes, he's from there.

His mother sighed relieved.

- Well, are them at least helping you? Did you find out something?

- Yeah –Will responded, totally disconnected now. He had opened another gossip blog, and in all the same picture stood out. Sonny hadn't exaggerated when he said the picture would be everywhere. It was _everywhere_. Haven's anxiety incremented when he examined the photograph closer, stopping at the footnote. It read: Who did Sonny Kiriakis kill to get this guy? Even though the camera hadn't snapped Will's face, at least two people he knew would recognized the short and disheveled blonde hair when they saw it. How long would it be before his grandmother learned he had been in Rome?

Will scrolled down and saw a different picture. He covered his mouth to stop from screaming out to his mother on the phone.

- What did you find, Will?

- I'll have to tell you later, mom. Something just came up.

He needed to talk to Chad.

- Something more important than talking to your own mother?

- You know it's not like that. I'll call you later. Bye, mom.

- Will! – he heard his mother yell before he pressed _off_.

He stared directly to the screen. The new picture was blurry and poorly lighted. But it was obvious that it was a picture of a dead body. Christopher Moore was dead. His body had been found by two teenagers walking by an empty warehouse in LA, not far from where the musician had been last seen. The kids took a picture and posted it on line before bothering to call the police. Even though the body was very decomposed, authorities identified him by the distinctive snake tattoo in his forearm.

Every never in Will's body got in alarm form. He deleted his browsing history and pushed his chair back.

- I'm gonna take a shower – he informed the giant in the sofa while he walked calmly upstairs-. If my meal comes, leave it in the kitchen, OK?

He turned the shower on and tiptoed towards the door leading to the rooftop. Under three minutes, he had already climbed down the fire escape to University Place. As soon as he walked a few miles away from the stables, he sneaked his way to a door in Mercer Street, pulled out his phone and dialed Chad's number. Hidden in the shadows, he watched people walk by under the blazing sun. A black Mercedes stopped under a lamp post nearby, and Will squished himself against the door until the car drove by heading towards SoHo.

Chad picked up immediately.

-Will? Are you OK? Dude, I was so worried.

-I'm OK

-Thank god –Chad sighed relieved, and then there was a long and awkward pause-. Well, tell me. Have you taken Sonny Kiriakis's cock up your ass?

Will blushed powerfully. The mockery was evident, but it said that he was forgiven for the mishap before he left Salem.

- Wow, straight to the point.

Chad snorted so loudly in the speaker Will had to move away the phone.

-Oh my god! You have! I can hear it in your voice! Little Will has take it up the ass!

-Shut up! –Will screeched, hoping no one heard.

-It's you! – Chad practically hollered-. You're the mystery man from Italy! You must know you don't deserve it. Why can't I find a girl to take me to Rome, hell, a dude would do if he'd take me to Rome… just nothing below the belt.

-You are aware that you need to get out of Salem in order to get to Rome, right?

-Watch it, zippy! –Chad barked. His mood changes were incredibly quick-. You left a shithole of trouble here. I may have to hate you the rest of your life.

-Does that mean your dad'll find it to somehow send you to Vanderbilt?

-I refuse to deal this with you. In some things you just aren't trustworthy. Besides, why would I want to talk about my boring and sad future when we could talk about your flowering sex life? So, how you feel Romeo? Your little ass sore from taking so much dick? Oh my god, did you moan? Oh my god did he come inside you?

- Oh my god would you shut the fuck up? –Will growled.

- I think he did! You little slut! You let Mr Bigshot fill you up? Spill his seed inside you? – Will knew how to make him stop.

-Are you sure you're not gay? Too much interest in my sex life suggest you are.

-Fuck you Horton! Or better yet call Mr Greekcock and tell him to fuck you!... Okay, I'm done. Sorry. –Chad's laughter all gone.

-It's okay, but seriously, things aren't quite like that.

-How come? What happened?

-Haven't you seen the news? They found Christopher Moore's body. That's why we returned to the states. Sonny was called in as a suspect. He must be speaking to the police right now.

-Whd'you mean "must be"? Don't you know for sure?

-The only thing he said was he needed to get out for a while. Look, I really screwed up this time. Sonny's not what I thought. We have been together for only three days and he's already lying to me. When we were in Rome he insisted he didn't have his phone, then I found out he did. Then we had to leave Rome suddenly, and he didn't say why. So we're now back in New York, and he assigned one of his bodyguards to baby me. He didn't want me to leave the house so I obviously had to escape, can you believe it?

-Easy Willy-boy. Seems just like Mr Kiriakis's a bit of a control freak. Look, don't try to turn this into something that its not. This is not a movie, not a soap, not a… idly written fanfiction novel by a random gay dude, this is real life, kay?

-What's your point? -Will was actually taking in what Chad was saying.

-He's probably just looking after you. If this whole reincarnation deal is real and it turns out that Sonny was in fact Jackson, he probably doesn't want to lose you again, don't you think?

-Maybe… or he may have taken me to Rome just to get me out of New York.

-Why would he do that? –Chad interrogated.

-Maybe there's something here he doesn't want me to find. –Will stated.

-Like what? –Chad questioned.

-Like evidence of him killing Christopher Moore?

-Oh come on Will! Don't be so naïve as to believe what's on the tabloids, for crying out loud! Do you really think that multimillion dollar playboys just go around killing people and tossing their bodies in warehouses. That's crazy. Besides, what could you just go and judge a person like that? Has it skipped your mind that you yourself were accused of a crime you didn't commit.

Chad had a very good point.

-That was something else entirely? –Nevertheless, Will answered stubbornly.

-How come? –Chad knew better than to expect an answer to that-. Look man no one could blame you for being a little freaked out. You know that the official record was released, the fire in your grandmother's house was ruled intentional. The sheriff might have caught the bastard had he listened to you.

-As if –Will snorted bitterly-. Probably that whole town thinks the devil himself set that fire.

-Nah, the last grand theory says you opened the door to hell yourself.

-In that case, too bad that fire didn't shallow up that whole shithole of a town. Did Dr Carver hatch that idea?

-Don't know. I've been picketing the church since you left. Although I don't think it makes that much of a difference, dad told me Carver left on vacations. But nevermind that. What are you gonna do with Mr Kiriakis?

-I think the mature thing would be to have a heart to heart with him.

-That's my boy! –Chad answered, relieved to hear Will say the mature thing to do.

-But that doesn't mean anything. Maybe there's no horseback riding together during twilight for us. But anyways, I came here for answers to William and that's what I mean for now.

-OK, I guess that's enough for now. So, what did you find at the Society?

-I haven't been there yet.

-What?! That's one of the quintessential motives you went there in the first place! Why haven't you? All that sex take up all your time?

-I told you I just got back from Rome!

-Well, move your sore from cock butt and go find out what you can about your lover!

-You're right.

-Course I am. Geesh, I'm Chad fucking DiMera – the grin in Chad's lips could be felt over at Pluto-. Let me know what you find. And promise you'll stay safe, kay?

-Kay.

-Kay, bye. Oh and Will?

-Yeah?

-Don't send this to the crapper for inferences and what people you don't know tell you.

-Kay. Bye.

-Bye, man. Open your heart.

Open your heart. What if he breaks it? What if he doesn't? What if I take the risk? What if I live happily ever after with the man I loved for over thousand years?

Will wants answers to those questions, and he knows where to start.


	17. Chapter 17

Will found himself in a bushy and peaceful plaza in a corner of the loud Park Avenue South. In the center of said plaza, a tall iron gate guarded the an exhuberant and charming park. The statue of a melancholic and pensive man seemed to float in the midst of all that green. Two people were walking by a stony pathway under the statue, speaking in a low voice. Will saw that a young boy wanted to shove the door open, his actions were futile, however, the door was locked. He remained standing there, fingers curled around the bars, gazing at the wonderful secret green garden that laid in the middle of Manhattan.

Among the mansions that flanked the south part of the park, an old and red Stoned one rose high above with an spacious terrace in front of the park. Thick vines ascended through the whole length of the building's facade, clinged to the terrace, they crept through the windowsills and hung by the front entrance. The house seemed abandoned, inhabited by ghosts. Will knew immediately that this was the mansion from his visions, in bygone days the house of the Strickland family and by then the Ouroboros Society's central offices. Climbing the stairs that led to the entrance, remembrances of past celebrations, ceremonials and even funerals went quickly by Will's eyes as slides through a presentation. These images ceased once he opened the door. It was now very modern and spacious, very different from the old wooden table mansion he remembered. Will felt cold right away. He could have sworn he'd never been there before. The mansion was so desolated and lifeless as a computer chips Factory, and a voice in his head begged for him to walk away.

A few feet away from the door, a receptionist was sitting in a crystal and steel desk. The beige colored fur couches in the waiting room were filled with kids and their parents. The adults were filling out forms while the kids read books or entertained themselves with video games. Will fixated in a little girl reading copy of Dante's _Divine Comedy, _spread open in her lap.

- What can I help you with? - The young man in the desk asked Will very courteously. Hair combed to perfection, dark rimmed glasses and a excruciatingly perfect white shirt, he looked like a carving in plastic.

- That - Will couldn't help but stare at the amount of people in the lobby-. Are all those people members of the Society? - he asked in a low voice.

- Of course not - the receptionist answered, with the same level of emotion as an automatic recording-. Parents bring their children for past life analysis. But most kids just watch too much TV. Just a minimum percentage will be offered membership. What can I help you with, then?

- Well, look -Will answered, remembering his duty-. I would like to make an appointment with Mr Kahn, the Society's president.

The receptionist seemed shocked, as if Will had requested an appointment with the King.

- And you are...?

- My name's Will Horton.

The receptionist blinked twice.

- Mr Kahn's not available right now. - he informed - But I suppose he'll be here soon. If you'd like to take a seat, he might be seeing you when he comes back.

- OK -Will said, already anxious to flee-. I'll be back later then.

- No, please -the young man insisted, pointing towards the only available seat in the waiting room.

AN EMPLOYEE OF THE OS called a couple names, and two identical boys got up from their seats next to Will in the waiting room. The boys's mother was too much into her book to realize her kids had disappeared or that they had left three empty boxes of juice on the floor.

- Is this seat taken?

A young man with jeans and a just ironed blue shirt pointed to one of the recently abandoned couches. He was older than Will, though he couldn't really tell by how much. And he was handsome, like a catalogue model or a spokesperson for a designer label. Still, his features didn't really make a splash. Had he closed his eyes, he would remember his hair and dark eyes, but he doubted he'd remember his face.

- No - he answered, smiling-. It's all yours.

He sat and Will offered his hand, which the man held for maybe a bit too long.

- I'm Adam Rosier.

The young man had the deep and resonant voice of a news anchor. Will suspected his accent wasn't American, but he couldn't pinpoint any indication of his origin.

- Will Horton.

- Will - it was as if he'd like to know the name by heart-. Is this your first visit to the OS?

- Yes -he confirmed-. Is it yours too?

- No. I've been a member for a while now. This is such a fantastic organization. Are you here for the eval?

- Actually I'm hoping to speak to Mr Kahn -Will explained-. The receptionist told me he might be able to see me today.

- I see. I suppose,then, that you have remembered a previous existence -he made like a quick check up on Will - You were somebody really interesting -he concluded-. I always pick up on these things.

Will leaned in towards him and spoke lower.

- I believe I was a member of the OS in its first days. I'm hoping that Mr Kahn can shed some light on some of my memory lapses.

- Fascinating. I've always been very passionate about the Society's history. Do you remember anyone you previously knew?

- Some -he responded.

- Is that what brought you here from Salem? Are you looking for someone from your past?

Will straightened and buried his fingers in the couch's armrests.

- Did I mention I was from Salem?

Adam laughed and Will's anxiety went up in smoke.

- No, I'm just really good at picking up accents. It's a knack. We all here have one or two unusual gifts. You grew up by mountains, didn't you?

- That's right - Will marveled-. I'm impressed!

- Have you been here in town long?

- No, I just got here.

- You just got here - Adam repeated, as if trying to give the phrase meaning - And where are you staying, if you don't mind me asking?

- With a friend.

Will didn't feel like sharing more than that.

- I see -Adam smiled again-. Well, should you not want to abuse your friend's hospitality, the Society has rooms for rent. Very nice, and highly accessible.

- Thanks. I'll keep that in mind...

- Mr Horton? - the receptionist walked up to him-. Mr Kahn just called. He won't show up until tomorrow morning. Would you like to schedule an appointment?

Will felt relieved that he no longer had to stay there any longer. The building's cold atmosphere was getting to his bones.

- OK.

- Is Monday at noon OK for you? Unfortunately it's the earliest hour I have left. As you can see, we're pretty packed.

- Monday's perfect.

- Thanks, Mr Horton - the receptionist closed his anachronistic date book and offered a patronizing smile-. We'll see you next week.

Will stood and Adam stood with him.

- It was a pleasure meeting you - Adam said.

- A pleasure - Will responded

- You know, Will? If you're interested in doing a small research on your own, Gramercy Park's Historical Society is just a few blocks away. There they have some documents regarding the OS's first days. You may find some information there.

- Thanks. I will go. - Will said, disconcerted due to Adam not looking away from his face. It was as flattering as it was alarming being an object of constant scrutiny.

- I hope to see you in your next visit to the Society -Adam told him-. I'm almost always here. Maybe we could get a cup of coffee together. And I could tell you more about us. I think I might be able to persuade you to join the society.

He possessed the sereny security of someone used to people not being able to resist him. There was an unexpected air of power, like a prince dressed as pauper or a god passing off as a mortal.

- Of course - Will heard himself say, shockingly-. See you.


	18. Chapter 18

**Because my last few chapters were very short, I'd made this one a long one J Oh, and also, apparently there's been this incident here in this fandom because a writer… I don't know was reported for "story stealing" and I just don't want to run the same luck so once again I would like to say that no characters belong to me, and the story is completely merged between the original and my thoughts, characters belong to DOOL, NBC and The Eternal Ones (writer's name is Kirsten Miller) Edit: Thanks to .5 for his calling me out on my carelessness, really thank you man, i appreciate it :)**

Outside the Ouroboros Society, all benches were unoccupied. A dazzling shimmer made Will fixate in the Windows of an apartment on the other side of the park. He thought he'd seen the silhouette of a figure in a dark room examinating the park. He sped up, and seconds later he was climbing up the stairs of a redbrick mansion a few steps away from the OS. The building's lobby lodged Gramercy Park Historical Society's offices. Will approached a tiny women in thick glasses who battled dust on the desk with a feather duster. The walls around her were covered in photographs from the 19th century of the buildings surrounding the park. Blurry figures walked through the pictures, ghost of sidewalkers in fast motion, too fast to be able to catch on film.

The woman in the office froze when she spied her guest, her **duster** poised inches from a bust of Stanford White.

- Are you Will Horton?

- I am.

- I'm the librarian. The OS just called and asked me to set that aside for you.- the woman pointed to a large box on a nearby chair-. It's everything we have on the early years of the organization.

- But I only left there a minute ago. - Will said stunned-. How did you find it all so quickly?

- You're not the first person the OS has sent over,- the woman noted, setting down her duster-. I keep all the materials together so they're ready when needed. The reading room is on the second floor. Come, I'll show you.

Will followed the woman up a single set of stairs. A red velvet rope on the landing blocked access to the mansion's upper floors while a door opened into an enormous reading room. Inside, the shades were pulled and the space was dimly lit by four small lamps clustered in the center of a long, ornate table. The air was cool and smelled of dust and decay. Shelves of books circled the room, and several small statues stood atop them. The faces of men long dead and forgotten stared down at the girl who had invaded their domain. If the building wasn't haunted, it was missing a good opportunity, Will thought.

- Is it usually so empty this time of day?- he asked the woman as she slid the box onto a table in a corner.

-Empty? Yes, I suppose it is, isn't it? I'm sure you'll have company soon enough. Let me know if there's anything else I can get for you-. she added as she bustled toward the stairs.

Will opened the box to find a few books and a half-dozen document cases. But the first item he pulled out was an old scrapbook, its black cover brittle and crumbling. Yellowing newspaper articles had been affixed to the book's pages. Most appeared to be from either the _New York Daily News_ or the _New York Daily Mirror._To Will's astonishment, the articles focused on Jackson Montgomery, and all the photos that accompanied them had managed to capture him scowling or skimmed the headlines.

AUGUST STRICKLAND DEAD AT 65, PROTÉGÉ NAMED HEIR

EVIDENCE POINTS TO MURDER IN STRICKLAND CASE

MONTGOMERY QUESTIONED IN PHILANTHROPIST'S DEATH

MONTGOMERY LOVE TRIANGLE MAY HAVE LED TO MURDER

SUSPECT IN STRICKLAND MURDER PERISHES IN FIRE

NEW LEADERSHIP AT STRICKLAND'S OS

MONTGOMERY'S LOVER COLLAPSES AT FUNERAL

He paused at the last article. The grainy picture beneath the headline showed a young man with dark hair being supported by a figure whose head had been severed when the photo was cropped. Will could clearly see his tear-soaked face well enough to identify him. It was Noel. The surge of hatred and jealousy that coursed through Will's system came as a complete surprise.

_Grief-stricken Noel Underwood collapsed in Jackson Montgomery's funeral yesterday, further fueling rumors that the two had been lovers. Although Montgomery was known to have a different partner, sources report that the relationship was little more than a financial arrangement, and that Noel Underwood remained as his loved one._

_Earlier this year, Montgomery was suspected by many of murdering his wealthy mentor, Dr. August Strickland. Now some are claiming that the fire at the Washington Mews was an attempt to add millions to Montgomery's newfound fortune. Did Montgomery accidentally perish in the act of murdering his rich partner? Our source has confirmed these suspicions. But with the suspect dead, there is little now that can be done. . . ._

Will recognized unintelligent hocum when he saw it, but the cruel speculation still stung. He tore through the rest of the scrapbook, past more chatty columns and a few serious police reports from the _New York Herald Tribune_. While it had taken months for New York's gossips to grow tired of the sordid story, the official investigation into Strickland's death appeared to have stopped with Jackson's demise. But Will found the most interesting piece of information glued to the very last page of the scrapbook. _Donated to the New York Historical Society by Kate Roberts. 1995_, read a small, typewritten strip of paper. This was a possibility that he had never considered: William might still have family in New York.

Will suddenly felt a presence and peered up from the scrapbook to find a drab little woman watching her from the entrance. She offered Will a quick, humorless nod before heading for a seat at the far end of the long reading room table, her black pencil skirt swishing about her calves. Moments later, a man in khaki pantas strolled past the table and continued toward one of the chairs facing the room's fireplace. Once settled, he tucked his nose into a book that had no title on its spine.

Will had hoped for some company, but the other visitors only added to the eerie atmosphere of the room, so he focused his attention to the other materials that had been packed in the box. A yellowing pamphlet written by August Strickland outlined the mission of the Ouroboros Society. The organization, he wrote, "welcomes individuals of both sexes, all races or religions, ages, backgrounds and prospects, with no differentiation as to who they love, who commit to using their God-given talents for the betterment of the world." Then Will spent several minutes scrutinizing an official photo from the early days of the club. Strickland stood in the center of the picture, surrounded by a dozen smiling followers. He was not a tall man, but his thick silver hair added inches to his height. His fond gaze was focused on the younger man by his side. Jackson Montgomery grinned at the camera, his expression completely carefree.

Will laid the photo beside one of the newspaper clippings in the scrapbook. Which was the real Jackson Montgomery—the carefree young man or the scowling suspect? Even his visions of Jackson offered few clues. William had yet to reveal his whole story. And unless Will could find some way to see more of the past, he might never uncover the truth about Jackson.

AS WILL LEFT the Historical Society, he saw the gate to Gramercy Park swing open, and he bolted to catch it before it could close. The middle-aged woman who had emerged shot Will a nasty look, which did nothing to stop the boy from entering. After taking a stroll around the empty enclosure, Will found a wooden bench opposite the Ouroboros Society and sat down to watch the front of the mansion. He'd hoped the sight would summon a vision, but at first nothing came. All he knew was that the experience at the Historical Society had left him feeling chilled and lonely. Had William been murdered by the man he loved? Was that what he wanted Will to discover?

_"He's not good enough for you."_

The man's voice was close, only a few feet away. Will jumped from the bench, expecting to find that someone was sneaking up behind him. But the park was deserted, and the light was fading fast.

WILL FELT GRASS beneath his fingers. Somewhere above him, a man spoke.

"What do you think happened to him?"

"I don't know," replied another voice.

"Should we call an ambulance?"

"I don't think so, look."

Will opened his eyes. Two men were squatting by his side. The first, dressed in a navy suit,. The other was the khaki-clad man from the reading room.

"Who are you?" Will demanded as he stood up and brushed the leaves from his clothing. The last orange rays of daylight glowed like a fire burning somewhere in the west, and chandeliers blazed in the mansions surrounding the park. Only the shuttered windows of the Ouroboros Society remained dark.

"We were passing by the park, and we saw you faint. Are you sick? Can we help get you home?"

"Do you live here?" Will asked.

The man in khaki shot his companion a quick look. "No," he admitted.

"Thanks for your help, but I'm fine now. I've really got to go," Will said. His legs were stiff, but he limped as quickly as possible toward the park's exit. Something was wrong. How had the two men gotten into the locked park when only residents of the square were given a key?

"Wait!" One of the men caught up with him. "Where are you staying?"

"Harlem," Will lied as he opened the park's gate and rushed to grab an idling cab. As the taxi sped off, Will peeked out the rear window and saw the two men standing on the sidewalk, watching him disappear down Twentieth Street.

WHEN THE CAB came to a halt at the Washington Mews, Will checked the lane for paparazzi before sprinting to the little white cottage and banging on its red door. Heavy footsteps stomped across the living room floor.

Staring directly at him from the doorstep, Sonny seemed taller, his body more powerful than he had remembered. His eyes were bloodshot, and their irises were a startling black. He was both beautiful and tempting, tempting Will to battle it out with him—exactly like the pictures of Jackson Montgomery in the scrapbook.

"Where have you been?" Sonny demanded. "I've had everyone out looking for you."

"You first," Will snipped. As he brushed past, he was surprised to find himself fighting the urge to throw his arms around him. He seemed so worried. It was hard to believe it might all be an act, but then again, why should he tolerate his behavior?

"Where did _you_ go today?" he asked, attempting to turn the tables.

"I'm not the one who's sick."

"For your information," Will said, "I've been taking a walk."

He followed him across the living room. "I thought I told you to stay here this afternoon."

"Excuse me?! Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what I can or can't do? I'm a big boy and I had stuff to do." Will was getting annoyed.

"Did you go to the Ouroboros Society?"

Will paused. "None of your business, but yes, I did," he admitted. "But I didn't stay very long. The person I wanted to see wasn't there."

"Are you going to go back?"

Will shrugged. "I doubt it. The place gave me the creeps. It wasn't anything like I remembered it."

"I _told_ you."

"Yes, but some things I have to find out for myself. I didn't come to New York to be treated like a five-year-old. I don't want to feel like I'm being watched all the time. I can leave, you know."

The threat hit home, and the anger seemed to drain from Sonny's body. He reached out for Will's hand. "I'm just worried. You passed out in Rome, and you Will't even seen a doctor yet."

"Nothing bad is going to happen to me," Will said, jerking his hand away.

"There are terrible people here," Sonny said softly. "You have to be careful. Sometimes it's hard to tell them apart from—"

"There are terrible people everywhere, Sonny. And I'm finally learning how to recognize them."

Will felt the cell phone in his pocket vibrate. He pulled it out and flipped it open. A text message had just arrived from Chad.

_Still think he's dangerous?_

"What is it?" Sonny asked.

"What is it?!" Sonny repeated, louder.

"Nothing," Will said, quickly erasing the message.

The house was filled with the scent of flowers. Every available surface held a vase of beautiful blooms. Never before had Will seen so many flowers outside of a garden center or a graveyard. In the morning he had discovered an envelope with his name on it leaning against a lamp on his bedside table. A key fell out onto the sheets when he opened it.

_I'm sorry,_ the card read. _I don't ever want to lock you away. This is the key to the front door. Come and go as you like. But please avoid being photographed. I will see you this evening. Love, Sonny._

Will rooted through his things for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Beneath a layer of underwear at the bottom of the suitcase he'd yet to unpack lay an print Sonny had bought for him in Rome. Will felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy as he stared at the blissful couple lying hidden in the grass. If only life were that simple, he thought.

He laid the print facedown next to Sonny's note and got dressed. After checking to see if the house was empty, he made coffee and carried a cup up to the roof. Settling down in one of the wooden lounge chairs, he phoned Chad.

"'Lo," EJ DiMera answered.

He felt better just hearing his familiar voice. "Hey Mr. DiMera, it's Will. How are you?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Chad ready to move out of town yet?"

EJ laughed. "I just made him paint the house, and now I reckon it's about time to reshingle the roof. They say it's gonna be ninety degrees today. Just the right sort of weather for working with hot tar."

"You're a cruel, cruel man, Mr. DiMera."

"I'm glad I still have it in me," EJ confessed. "By the way, I saw your mother in town yesterday. Sounds like you got her in quite a tizzy."

"Oh God." Will groaned. "I completely forgot to call her back. Marlena's probably put a price on my head by now."

"I wouldn't be surprised," EJ said with a chuckle. "Well, I don't suppose you called to talk to me. Let me wake up Prince Charming for you."

"Will! It's seven o'clock in the morning," Chad protested when he picked up the phone.

"Sorry," Will said. "I must have a hellish case of jet lag. I didn't even notice the time."

"So, d'you go see the reincarnation people yesterday?" Chad asked through a yawn.

"I did. But the man I wanted to talk to was out of the office."

"Then you have to go back," Chad insisted.

"I don't know if I should. The place was a little creepy. And I'm not sure if I need to now. I met an interesting guy while I was waiting at the OS, and he suggested I visit the Historical Society next door. They had a box filled with stuff on the Society, and I found a scrapbook with a bunch of old articles about Jackson."

"And?"

Will took a deep breath. "Let's just say the stories weren't all that flattering. A lot of people seemed to think that Jackson was a pretty bad guy. They say he murdered Dr. Strickland for his fortune. There were even rumors that he set the fire that killed William."

"That's crazy! Why would he kill _William_?"

"So he'd inherit all his money and live happily ever after with the other man he'd been humping—a boy William knew named Noel Underwood."

Will heard Chad spring out of bed, his bare feet hitting the floor with a slap.

"Whoa—do you really believe Jackson did all that?" He was wide awake now.

"I don't know _what_ to believe. Some of the articles in that scrapbook made the _National Enquirer_ look like the _New York Times_. But it would explain a lot, wouldn't it? Think about it, Chad. Maybe that's why I had to come here. If I find proof that Jackson was a killer, I could end up solving three murders at once."

"Three? I know about William and the Strickland guy," Chad said. "Who's the third?"

"Christopher Moore."

Chad whistled softly. "Damn, Will. This is getting pretty serious. You're not talking about something that happened ninety years ago. Jeremy Johns has only been dead for a few months! But look man, are you sure about all this? I mean, sounds like all you've found so far are a bunch of old newspaper clippings. Do you have any real clues?"

"Not real—" Will started to say. "Wait a second. I did find out that William has a relative who may still be alive. Someone named Kate Roberts. She was the one who donated the scrapbook to the Historical Society—in 1995."

"Well, there you go—that's a clue! You gotta go see her."

"How? She could live in Shanghai for all I know."

"Did you look her up on the Internet?"

"No," Will admitted sheepishly.

"Good God, Will. A person who didn't know you so well might think you were scared or something. Hold on." He laid down the phone, and Will heard him start up his computer. A few minutes later, Chad reappeared on the other end of the line. "That couldn't have been easier. Her address is 150 Central Park West. She held a fund-raiser there last month for some park renovation project."

Will could see the building in his mind, its twin towers reflected in Central Park Lake. The Andorra apartments. William McLaren had once lived on the seventeenth floor, and even the thought of returning made Will squirm.

"I don't know," he said, his courage faltering. "William's parents had an apartment there. I don't think I'd feel comfortable—"

"Dammit, Will!" Chad bellowed, and Will jumped. "Sometimes we gotta do things we don't want to do. You have no problem waking me up at seven o'clock in the morning, but you're not willing to do anything that makes you _uncomfortable_?"

"You're one to talk," Will pointed out. "You can't even leave Salem."

"Don't you _dare_ change the subject. I _told_ you we are not going there. Now grow some balls and go see Ms. Roberts. Otherwise I'm not going to help your sorry ass anymore."

"All right." Will sighed.

"And call me when you're done!"

"OK dude," Will mumbled as he hung up the phone.

EVEN FROM A DISTANCE, the Andorra was intimidating. Big enough to house everyone in Snope City, it was renowned for the two towers that rose so far into the sky that the neighboring buildings seemed stunted. The towers had always reminded William of horns, Will recalled as he reluctantly made his way north along Central Park West. When he finally arrived, he found himself looking at two identical entrances and instinctively chose the one to the south. Even as he stepped through the door, Will felt his body tense up, as if he were revisiting the scene of a terrible dream. If the elderly doorman hadn't greeted him with a friendly smile, he might not have found the courage to speak.

"I'm here to see Kate Roberts," Will announced.

"Is she expecting you?" the man asked as Will stared at the man's uniform. The doormen's uniforms hadn't changed since the days when William's parents had lived in the building.

"No."

"Your name?

"Will Horton." He waited as the doorman rang the Roberts apartment and relayed the information. After a moment he turned back to Will.

"Ms. Roberts would like to know the purpose of your visit."

"Please tell her I have a few questions about William McLaren," Will said, taking a chance.

The woman on the other end of the intercom must have been listening. "Okay, sir," the doorman told Will after a short pause. "You can go up. She's on the seventeenth floor."

"Apartment D," Will added.

"Have you been here before?" asked the doorman.

"Not for a very long time," Will told him truthfully.

A HUSKY MAID in an old-fashioned black-and-white uniform answered the door just seconds after Will buzzed.

"This way," the maid announced, leading Will through a maze of museumlike rooms, each more lovely than the next. As they passed the living room, Will caught a glimpse of a prim blonde woman with an angry expression sitting on the edge of a velvet-covered sofa. A man wearing old-fashioned spectacles sat beside him with his arms folded across his chest. Will blinked, and William's parents disappeared.

At last Will arrived at a door. When the maid opened it, Will at first saw nothing but sky. Squinting in the sunlight, he followed the woman out onto an enormous terrace that overlooked Central Park Lake—the same terrace he had seen in hisvision. With the city smog beneath them, the air smelled sweet and clean. Rosebushes scaled the building's brick wall, their crimson flowers dangling from trellis holes like the heads of criminals left to suffer in stocks. In each corner of the terrace, topiary trees trimmed in perfect spheres sneered down at their cousins in the park below. Will expected to find some aristocratic dowager pruning the roses, but sitting at a table with the paper and a pot of tea was a woman in her midforties, in a white blouse and jeans.

"I'm Kate," the woman said, rising to shake Will's hand, then gesturing to the seat across from her at the table. She had short strawberry blonde hair and a willowy figure.

"Will."

"I'm just having some tea. Would you like a cup?"

"Yes. Thank you," Will said.

"I must admit I'm intrigued," Kate said as the maid set down another cup and saucer. Will instantly recognized the china's red and gold pattern. The dishes belonged to a set William's mother had inherited from an aunt. "I was expecting someone quite a bit older. How on earth do you know about William?"

Will had his answer ready. "I'm researching the history of the Ouroboros Society for school. I came across an article about William McLaren's death, and I wanted to find out more."

"I see. An intrepid boy reporter," Kate said. "What school do you go to? I graduated from Spence about a million years ago."

It was the one question for which Will hadn't prepped. "Blue Mountain."

"Blue Mountain? Where is _that_?"

"Salem," Will's mind threw that right away.

"And you've come all the way from Salem to interview _me_?" Kate didn't buy it for a second.

"I have a few other things planned while I'm here," Will said, wishing he could lie as easily as Sonny."This apartment belonged to William's parents, didn't it?"

Kate smiled knowingly. "Yes. William was their only child. When they died, their nephew—my father—inherited the place. He was a McLaren, however, for family reasons, I decided to take my mother's Maiden name. So, I'm Kate Roberts McLaren, the last of the McLarens, so when my parents died, I enheritated this house.

"Did your mom and dad ever meet William?"

"Oh God, no. William died _at least_ twenty years before my father was born, and the family didn't like to talk about what had happened. I doubt I would even have known his name if I hadn't come across his obituary when I was about your age. It said that he'd died along with his lover in a tragic fire, which of course I found terribly romantic. And it mentioned that they had both been members of an organization called the Ouroboros Society that was devoted to the study of reincarnation. After that I was hooked. I visited the OS and started reading all the old articles I could find at the Historical Society. And then I remembered the basement."

"The basement?" Will asked.

"Every apartment in this building has its own storage facility in the basement. When my parents moved in, we tried to put some boxes down there, but our space was jammed full. I guess we just forgot about it. But after I started reading about William, I went back down there." Kate paused to taste her tea. "And I hit the jackpot."

"What did you find?" Will asked eagerly.

"All of William's things. His parents must have packed up everything that wasn't destroyed in the fire and put it in storage. There were boxes and boxes of incredible paintings with some much exquisite details, the most beautiful I'd ever seen. I think he may have painted them himself. And there were photos of him with his boyfriend and different people from the OS. I even found some old love letters."

"From Jackson?"

Kate's eyes glimmered. She had gossip to share. "I don't think so. None of the letters were signed. Whoever wrote them was trying to win him over. As far as I can tell, Jackson never had to try that hard."

"Do you think I could see the letters?" Will asked.

"Sure—if I still had them."

"Where are they?" Will asked.

"Gone. A couple of months after I found the stuff, the building's storage facility was robbed. Our next-door neighbors lost a fortune in furniture. They took all of William's boxes, too."

"Why would anybody want to take a bunch of old letters and paintings?"

"I imagine the thieves knew what they were doing. Those paintings were probably worth millions of dollars. The guys showed up on the security tapes. I watched them myself. Two professional-looking types loaded all the stuff into a truck parked out back. They left fingerprints and everything. You'd think the cops could have caught them, but we never heard a thing."

"What about the scrapbook you donated to the Gramercy Park Historical Society?" Will asked. "How did that get left behind?"

"The Gramercy Park Historical Society? I've never heard of it. You must mean the New York Historical Society. Anyway, the thieves didn't leave the scrapbook behind," Kate said. "As far as I know, it never belonged to William. I found it at the Sixth Avenue flea market back in the nineties. The guy who sold it to me said it had come from the estate of some rich old widow—his word, not mine. He didn't know his name. He thought he must have followed the case back in the day."

Will let the information sink in. "And what did you think of the articles in the scrapbook?" he finally asked. "Do you think Jackson could have murdered William?"

"Absolutely not," Kate said with a vigorous shake of her head. "I think he and William were madly in love. I'm fourty-six years old, Will, and I've already been married three times. And even though all my husbands turned out to be jerks, I'd still like to believe I know real love when I see it. Maybe you'll say I'm just a hopeless romantic. But I read the police report. William and Jackson died in each other's arms. In fact, the firemen found the bodies still locked in an embrace. Does that sound like murder to you?"

"No," Will had to admit. There was something stirring inside of him that he had thought was dead. "I guess it doesn't."

"Exactly," Kate said with a satisfied smile. "So. Now that I've told you everything I know, why don't you tell me why you're _really_ here, Mister Horton."

The question took Will by surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, come _on_," Kate replied with a comic huff. "Blue Mountain High School? Are you kidding?"

"I don't understand," Will stammered as he started to rise.

"Please, sit down," Kate urged. "There's no need to get upset. You can trust me. I've been expecting William to show up again since I first read about him. Now a boy from Salem comes to see me with questions about my cousin who died in 1925? It can't be a coincidence." He raised one eyebrow in expectation. "So. Give me the scoop."

"I . . . I really don't know what to tell you, Ms. Roberts. I think you may have read too many books on reincarnation. Thank you for your help, but I have another appointment this morning."

"Such a shame," Kate pretended to pout. "All right then. Just promise you'll come back to see me when you've finished your 'research.' "

"I promise," Will lied. He was beginning to feel light-headed. A vision was on the way, and he had to force himself to remain upright and alert.

ONCE HE HAD FLED the Andorra, Will crossed the street in a daze and stumbled into Central Park, hoping he could reach a safe place before he was overcome by the vision. Will plopped down on the grass by the lake—just as William must have done a hundred times before—and the world faded into darkness.

_He felt his seat rocking beneath him and realized he was sitting on a boat in the lake. The sky above was black and starless. A whizzing, whistling noise filled the air, and then lights exploded above. All around him, the fireworks glittered against the dark water._

_In the week since his ship had returned to New York from Europe, William had spent every spare moment in Jackson's company. He had finally found the life he'd been missing. He believed him when he told him they were meant to be together. Yet one nagging doubt still remained._

_"How long have you known Noel?" he asked. He had seen how Noel's beautiful face glowed whenever Jackson entered a room._

_"A little over a year, I suppose."_

_"He's in love with you, isn't he?"_

_"He thinks he is," Jackson said._

_"What does that mean?"_

_"It means he has me confused with someone else from her past."_

_"Does that happen often?" William asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice._

_"It happens," he said. "But never to us."_

_Jackson rowed the boat out to the center of the lake and gave him his lopsided grin before he blew out the flame in the one lantern they'd brought._

_"Come here, William," he insisted._

_"It's dark," he said._

_"Why do you think I brought you here?"_

_He felt fingers encircling his wrists, and strong arms pulling him toward the middle of the boat. Water splashed against the sides when he fell into his lap. The boat could capsize. He'd seen it happen before. A boy had drowned doing the very same thing. But William still couldn't resist._

WHEN HE WOKE, Will could hear the oars of rowboats dipping into the water. A girl laughed in the distance, and Will imagined William and Jackson skimming across the surface of the lake, their ghostly silhouettes glimmering in the moonlight. He sat up with a jolt when he felt something prodding his side. A beagle was sniffing at him.

"You okay?" its teenage owner inquired. "I was about to call an ambulance."

"I'm fine, thanks," Will said, making use of the kid's outstretched hand to pull himself to his feet. He had to find a way to stop fainting in public. And yet he couldn't have been happier that the last vision had come. Along with his meeting with Kate Roberts, it was the perfect antidote to the suspicions that had been eating away at him like poison. Kate was right. Jackson would never have murdered William. The boy on the boat had been crazy in love. Will had felt it in the way he'd pulled William into his arms. That kind of passion was impossible to fake. When he had kissed him that night on the water, William had believed that nothing—least of all another woman—could ever come between them.

WILL HURRIED BACK to the mews house to find Sonny lounging on the sofa, reading the _New York Times_. He peered over the paper at him, smiled, and didn't ask any questions. He was trying hard to live up to his promise to give Will his freedom. All of the feelings he'd had for him in Italy rushed back to him at once, and he knelt down on the floor beside the couch and kissed him.

"Don't you want to know where I've been?" he asked playfully, hoping their argument had been forgotten.

"Only if you want to tell me," Sonny said. "Otherwise, your comings and goings are no longer my business."

"I guess that must mean you're having me followed?" Will joked.

"Very amusing. But since you're in a better mood, I'll go ahead and ask. What _have_ you been doing today?"

He was going to tell him everything. "I went up to Central Park Lake and watched people row boats like we used to."

"Ah, I was so romantic back then."

"You still are. Thanks for all the flowers this morning."

"My pleasure." He kissed him. "I'm sorry I was so hard on you yesterday. I can only imagine how confused you must be. I have to remind myself that you don't remember everything the way I do. I hope you'll remember more someday, but in the meantime, will you please _try_ to trust me?"

"I will," Will promised.

"Good. I just wish I could take you to dinner and seduce you with more stories of our past. But I have plans tonight that I can't cancel."

"Anything exciting?" he asked, closing his eyes and resting his head on Sonny's chest.

"If you call dinner with your nine-hundred-year-old attorney exciting."

Will's eyes popped open. He was lying again. He didn't know how, but he knew it.

"What time are you leaving?" he asked. "Maybe I'll go see a movie."


	19. Chapter 19

Will plopped onto the backseat of the taxi without letting go the red door from his sight. It was ten past eight. Sonny was running late, and the clock wouldn't cease to advance. The black Mercedes stood frozen down the cobbled road, releasing a dense fume cloud from the exhaust while waiting for its passenger. Will had started to wonder if he'd missed Sonny –if he'd decided to walk or take a cab- when the door opened and Sonny stepped out to the street, in jeans and a black coat. Barely looking at the taxi, the Mercedes fleed. When it took Fifth Avenue, Will's taxi follow right after.

While the sun went down and the city streets lit up, countless scenes set behind every New York window. People fought, screamed, danced in their underwear, completely unaware of the fact that everyone could see them. Foreseeing a long road towards Manhattan, Will slouched to admire the show. However the drive was surprisingly short. The Mercedes turned west in 21st street and stopped in front of an auto dealer shop, its façade was now a crystal plaque. Will felt his heart sink. Inside the building, hundreds of people had gathered for a party. They spun behind the windows like animals in a weird zoological exhibition. And none of them fit the description of a nine hundred year old lawyer.

Will paid the taxi driver and saw through the shadows from the opposite street Sonny among the crowd. Every single person he walked by would either plant a kiss on his cheek, pat his back or whispered something in the ear. Will realized, with a big pull on his heart, that the party was Sonny's. And he hadn't been invited. Out of anger, he walked into a group of girls who were flirting with the bouncer to get inside, and once they were successful he walked inside.

The building hosted an art gallery, and its stark walls were splattered with paintings. Will stood in front of one of them. The brushstrokes were thick and bewildered, and the colors were so lively that they almost seemed to breathe. The image showed an ancient Rome ablaze. Temples crumbling in the background while tiny citizens ran for their lives. In front, war from the action the rest of the people in the painting were experiencing, a shadowy dark figure rested quietly in one of the hills next to the city, overlooking the chaos on the horizon. The figure was no taller than a few inches, and it was easy to overlook it in the midst of the color whirlpool.

Somewhat stunned, Will moved on to the next painting. The same figure overlooked from a lifeboat how an entire cruise was devoured by the sinister ocean waves. A third painting displayed a dismayed blonde woman listening stealthily to his husband and another woman. She herself was also being watched. There were another two paintings. Disasters and tragedies. Anarchy and agitation. And hidden in each one, on the foreground, was always the same shadowy figure putting everything in motion, like the maestro of a sinister symphony.

-WELCOME LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, critics and cadgers. Lost among the crowd, Will was able to spot Sonny in a not so tall platform in the middle of the gallery. He was standing next to a very slim young man wearing a washed black suit. The rings around his eyes and the heaviness of his stare revealed his animosity towards the crowd. Under the gallery's bright lights, his skin seemed whiter than the walls, and he looked like a victim of a unseasonable fatal illness. –Thanks for coming to the inauguration of Marcos Van Melaswen's new exposition, "Entropy Agent" –Sonny continued-. As you all now, I'm a huge admirer of Marcos' work, and its an honor to have the opportunity to temporarily host this extraordinary paintings in my late father's gallery. In time, I hope some of them find permanency there. Well, if my pockets allow it – the crowd cheered the joke-. So have fun, enjoy the art, and on top of everything, enjoy the open bar. Thank you.

Sonny stepped away from the platform and walked with Marcos straight to the bar. Will stepped aside and turned to a corner, from where he saw them ordering drinks and whispering to each other so everyone could see them. He imagined what the guests were thinking. Christopher Moore's body had been found two days ago and there they were: the suspect and the motive. Those two had no shame being seen together two days after Christopher Moore was lying in a slab at the morgue. Will saw that Sonny's hand was softly caressing the pale skin of Marcos' hand. It was very hard to believe that that same hand was the one he'd felt back in Rome. But Will knew that the truth came out when he thought he wasn't looking. He was contemplating once again at the real Sonny Kiriakis. And the real Sonny Kiriakis was a liar and a player.

-WHAT DO YOU THINK? Will jumped at the sudden voice of a man. Right next to him, with barely a few columns between them and Will, a couple was studying one of Marcos' painting. The photo in the OS's web page had failed to capture Brian Kahn's true beauty. In person, the Society's president was stunning, with bright ocean blue eyes, thick dark hair that showed off his perfect bone structure and the body of a hoplite. While most women, and few men, admired Brian, Will's eyes were drawn to his companion. With a pair of solid dark glasses leaning in the bridge of his nose, Adam Rosier was barely recognizable. Before they had an opportunity to spot him, Will slipped out behind a column, now out of sight.

- The quality of his work has decayed. –he heard Adam confidently state with his newscaster voice-. The brushstrokes are sloppy, the colors nauseating and everything else bleakly primitive.

- And the theme? –Brian inquired, with a nervous undertone.

- The theme is the only interesting thing in all this mishmash –Rosier declared-. But his choice leaves very clearly that the drugs are devouring his mind.

- Yes, Marcos' works have turned too provocative, right? –Brian coincided-. Maybe we should ask him to explain his inspiration.

- I don't think that's necessary. I'm not even sure he knows. But this exhibition must be closed before it turns into shame. The money spent in the gallery could be put to better use.

Adam had the authority to shut down Marcos' exposition? Will's heart raised. His intuition had been spot on once again: Adam was someone important. He felt like seeing his face, but Will knew better not to take that risk.

- It's Sonny Kiriakis' money –he heard Brian inform Adam-. The Society hasn't paid anything here.

- Then maybe we should consider taking care of Mr Kiriakis as well –Adam abruptly stated-. I'm afraid he's complicated the situation too much.

- He has, but, need we be so severe with him, Adam? –Brian's tone was suddenly sweet-. I maintain that Sonny's a benefit to the Society.

Will couldn't hold it anymore and peaked out to see them. He saw Rosier turning to Brian with a cruel smile in his face.

- You're always driven crazy by pretty faces, right, Brian?

Brian shuddered.

- It's not like that this time. I simply don't want to act too rushed in regards to Sonny. I know he's responsible for sponsoring this exposition, but don't you think we should give him the opportunity to make amends for the complications he's caused? He's always looking for ways to make more points.

Rosier seemed to weigh the answer.

- Do you really think that Sonny would do anything to keep his membership?

- Yes –Brian confirmed, showing relief-. I'm sure he would.

- Then let's not waste any more time –Adam said.

- I'll speak to him tomorrow. –Brian promised.

While the duet slid to the next painting, Will stayed behind. Sonny had withdrawn from the crowd to salute Brian. They shook hands and turned, Will got scared about being seen so he walked behind until he reached a corner where he felt trapped, however he spotted an emergency escape route with a high tech alarm on top. The alarm would make a thunderous noise, and maybe even call the fire department, but that seemed to be the only way out. He elbowed his way through the people and pushed the door, already prepared for the noise. But the door opened without a sound, and shut down with a blunt hit while Will slid through an alley.

- Hey, did you shut it all the way? –the question proceeded from a smoke cloud left of the fire escape. A young man stepped out from it, pale skin that shone artificially under the security lights. It was Marcos Van Melaswen-. I left it stuck so I could come back.

- I'm sorry.

Will quickly checked that the door were still open. The last thing he needed was to be stuck in an alley with Sonny's other boyfriend.

- It's cool. Want a smoke?

- I don't smoke. –Will answered.

- Then why are you out here? –Marcos asked.

- I'm avoiding my boyfriend. He's in there with another guy.

Will didn't have the strength to say anymore.

- Ah –Marcos said-. That sucks.

- Yeah, damn –Will agreed-. And why are you outside? Isn't this supposed to be your party?

- Yep. But it wasn't my idea. I'd rather not be here really. The exposition's gonna blow.

- Why do you say that? I think your work's cool.

- Really? –the guy turned, curious-. You don't say! –he seemed so utterly surprised that Will felt a pinch of pity.

- Of course. I'm a big fan of the dark and unsettling. I noticed the man hidden in all the paintings. The one that drives everything into chaos. What is he supposed to be?

- You noticed? –Marcos' lips turned into a smile while the hand holding his cigarette raised to his mouth. Will saw a string around that wrist with a small locket in the shape of a silver snake biting its own tail.

- Of course.

- You must be special. Most people don't see him. They don't notice him. Anyways, it's not really a man. It's more like a force of nature. Chaos. Entropy. Doesn't matter how you call him, because it has no name. He's the reason why everything goes down the sh*thole.

- Fabulous.

- Not really.

- What do you mean? – Will asked.

- Nothing. It's just that this was my last opportunity, and I blew it. But I have to paint what's on my mind, ya'know? This were the visions I got. They wouldn't go away until I were to paint them. It's a shame it's so difficult for people to contemplate them.

- You have visions? –Will asked, his heart pounding.

- Those are where I get my ideas from. When I first started, they were pretty. But with each passing year they have gotten more and more sinister. It all started when I became a member.

Marcos took a big puff to his cigarette.

- Of what?

- Nevermind. You look like a nice southern boy. Believe it or not, I used to be a nice boy from Nebraska. Now my boyfriend's dead and everything's gone to hell. New York's a dangerous place. You don't need to tangle up with the wrong people. Look at what happened to me.

- But Marcos… -Will started, however, in that moment the door opened. He stepped back where the darkness reigned and hid.

- I've been looking all over for you. –It was Sonny. –Get inside, people want to speak to the artist.

- Do I have to? –Marcos protested-. No one likes my paintings anyway.

- How would you know if you haven't spoken to anyone all night? –Sonny replied-. Do I need to remind you of what's on stake here?

- You were the one who wanted this –Marcos complained, even though Will heard him walk towards the door. He turned to Will-. Y'Coming? –he asked. Will shook his head silently-. Well, it was a pleasure. If you really liked the paintings you may find them later on the dumpster –and he was gone.

- Who were you talking to? –Sonny asked.

- Some dude I met in the alley. Don't worry, he's not OS.

When the door shut, Sonny remained outside.

- Hello? – he called out-. Anybody out there?

Will peeked his head slightly to see Sonny's defeated eyes turning towards the door and getting inside, shutting the door behind him.


	20. Chapter 20

Will was livid.

As soon as he arrived back at the stables, he spent some quality time scrubbing the toilet bowl with Sonny's toothbrush and mixing his shampoo with olive oil. Then Will cursed fate and Kate Roberts as he crammed his belongings into a suitcase. Somehow the woman had stumbled across the very words Will's heart had been desperate to hear. The moment Kate had insisted that Jackson loved William, Will's defenses had dropped, and he'd returned to Sonny exposed and vulnerable. Now he would suffer for such a fool.

But Will didn't leave once his suitcase was packed. He sat and stared at it instead. As much as it hurt to stay, he couldn't go home. William had guided him to New York. Will was there for a reason, and he couldn't go anywhere until he knew what it was.

Still, the pain was worse than he'd ever expected—and he hadn't been prepared for it. For the first time in his life, Will understood how his mother must've felt when he had discovered the truth about his father's mistress. If this was the hurt love could cause, Will wanted out.

At two o'clock in the morning, he passed out with a late re-run of Law and Order. It was a restless sleep, filled with dark images from Marcos Van Melaswen's show. But in Will's dream, he was inside the paintings, powerless to stop what had been set in motion—unable to bring order to the chaos.

Sonny woke him with a kiss.

"Where have you been?" he croaked, hoping he'd tell the truth.

"Out with my lawyer." Sonny scooped him off the couch and carried him up to the bedroom. Despite his performance at the party, he seemed remarkably sober.

"What time is it?"

"Late."

"You've been out with some old lawyer all this time?"

"We had a lot to go over," Sonny said.

"Like what?"

"Aren't you nosy? What do you mean, 'like what'? You really want to hear about my legal issues?"

"I want to hear the truth," Will said. Somewhere inside, he still expected him to have an explanation for everything.

"And that's what I'm telling you." He lied so easily that it crushed him. He wanted to punch him in the throat, to tell him he'd seen him at the party with his hands on Marcos. He wanted to make him admit that he wasn't who he claimed to be. That the person he'd dreamed of his entire life was nothing more than a beautiful liar.

But he knew an angry confrontation would ruin everything. He had no choice but to stay close to Sonny Kiriakis if he wanted to solve William's mystery.

"I'm sorry," he whispered when he started to sob with frustration and rage. "It's almost over."

He could taste his own tears when Sonny's lips met his. Though Will knew he shouldn't do this, he was just too weak, or Sonny was that charming, either way it was inevitable. As Will forced Marcos out of his head, he briefly wondered if William had ever done the same to Noel Underwood. Then the pain vanished, as if Sonny's kiss was the only cure for the wounds he himself had inflicted. One last time wouldn't kill anyone, Will decided, and he gave his body to lust, warmth and charm.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hello?"

"Will? Where the hell are you?"

"I'm in the bathtub." Will groaned and lay back with the wash-cloth over his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to scrub the events of the previous evening out of his brain.

"In the bathtub _where_?" Chad demanded.

"The stables," Will admitted wearily.

"Will! Jesus! What were you thinking? I thought you weren't going back there! As I recall, your exact words were that you'd be an idiot to keep sleeping at some psycho's house."

"Those were _your_ exact words, not mine. But I guess I am an idiot. A big idiot." His voice cracked on the last "_idiot_."

"What happened?" Chad asked quickly. "You okay?"

Will pulled himself together before he spoke. "I had a little setback. Kate Roberts led me down a wrong path. She had me all convinced that I was living some big love story. But I've figured it all out now. I'm going to find out why William wanted me to come here, and then I'm going home."

"Home? To Salem?"

"Why not? _You're_ down there, and there's nothing in New York for me anymore," Will said. "But listen, can we talk about this later when I'm out of the bath?"

"You forgot, didn't you?"

"Forgot _what_?"

"You sent me an 'urgent' text at two A.M. You know, if you're going to treat me like your personal secretary, the least you can do is remember in the morning."

"Sorry." Will didn't have it in him to play along with Chad's attempts to cheer him up. "What did I send you?"

"A couple of names. Marcos Van Melaswen and Adam Rosier. You asked me to see what I could find out about them."

Will sat up, splashing bathwater all over the floor. "What did you find out?"

"The Rosier guy seems pretty clean. His name doesn't show up anywhere."

"Really? Not even in connection with the Ouroboros Society? I'm sure he's someone important."

"Nope," Chad said. "But don't despair. I've got plenty of dirt on Marcos Van Melaswen."

"Perfect. Give me a minute to dry off and make some coffee," Will said, though the news already had him on edge. "By the way, have I ever told you you're a wonderful snoop?"

"Gee, I don't know whether to be flattered or offended."

"Try flattered for once." Will threw on a shirt and sweats he'd taken from Sonny's closet. "If I want to offend you, I'll ask about school."

Downstairs, he searched the first floor of the house. There was no sign of Sonny. His side of the bed had been empty when Will woke, and he hadn't seen a trace of him since. "Okay, shoot," he told Chad as he filled the kettle with water.

"Marcos Van Melaswen. Born Tad Taylor, aka T, in Coon Rapids, Nebraska. Won a big art competition when he was sixteen years old. Moved to New York City when he was seventeen and shacked up with Christopher Moore."

"And when did he start cheating on him?" Will snipped as he set the kettle down on the stove and lit the gas.

"That's just gossip, Will. I'm trying to stick to the facts for now."

"Whatever."

"Anyway, I found out a couple of interesting things about Marcos. First off, he's a member of the Ouroboros Society."

"I figured he ought to," Will said. "I heard the president of the Society talking about him."

"And a drug addict."

"Knew that, too. Did you find anything out about Marcos and Sonny?"

"Nothing that would stand up in court. But they do seem to be pretty friendly."

"I wonder—" Will started to say.

"What?"

"Well, remember I told you that Jackson cheated on William with someone named Noel Underwood?"

"Yeah."

"I wonder if there might be some connection between Noel and Marcos. Sonny told me that people have a way of finding each other across lifetimes."

"So you're positive that Jackson was unfaithful?"

Just the thought made Will wince. "I don't know for sure about Jackson, but I _do_ know in this life Sonny Kiriakis is a big, fat, cheating liar."

"_Really_? Do tell."

The kettle began to whistle, and Will yanked it away from the flame. "Try not to sound so excited, Chad. This is my life. It's not some celebrity gossip show."

"Sorry."

"Apology accepted." Will took a deep breath and finished preparing his coffee. "So I followed Sonny last night. He said he was going to have dinner with his lawyer, but he went to an art gallery instead. I saw him there with Marcos. He had his hands all over him."

"_No_! The slut!"

"Marco's not a slut." Will was surprised to discover he couldn't muster any hatred for Marcos. "He's actually kind of cool."

"I was talking about Sonny."

"Oh. _Right_. Anyway, the weirdest part of the whole evening was that I ended up running into Marcos outside the gallery. And get this, Chad: He said that the ideas for his paintings come to him in visions. I didn't have a chance to ask him much about it, though.

"Well, that's _awkward_," Chad said. "Are you going to suck it up and go talk to him? You want to know where he lives? I've got the address right here."

Will wished there was another way. "Just what I wanted to do today—spend some quality time with my boyfriend's loverboy."

"You don't have to go, Will," Chad reminded him. "I know I gave you a hard time about going to see Kate Roberts and the Ouroboros people. But this is something else all together. You don't have to do it. You can come home whenever you're ready."

"Sure—and spend the next sixty or seventy years hating myself for being such a wuss?" Will scoffed. "No thanks. I have to figure out what's going on here before I go back. And if that means paying a friendly visit to Marcos Van Melaswen, then so be it."

"What if he doesn't want to talk to _you_?" Chad asked.

Will remembered the sad, lonely guy in the alley. "Marcos will talk to me," Will assured him. "I'm pretty sure he'd talk to _anybody_."

THE BUILDING near the corner of White and West Broadway was a century-old tool factory that had been renovated to suit the sort of people who never got their hands dirty. It was six stories high and almost the length of a city block, yet the intercom listed only six names. Each apartment took up an entire floor of the building. Will rang the buzzer labeled VAN MELASWEN and waited. A minute later, he pressed the button again, and a voice came over the speaker.

"Go away," it growled.

"Marcos?" Will spoke hurriedly into the microphone. "My name is Will Horton."

"I said go away," the voice repeated. Its owner sounded exhausted.

"Marcos, please. I met you last night at the gallery. I need to ask you about your visions. It's a matter of—"

Will heard an electronic buzzing. He pushed at the door to the building and let himself inside.

The old freight elevator was a turn-of-the-century antique. Inside its steel cage, Will watched the floors pass by within fingers' reach until he made a rough landing on the fifth floor. The elevator released him into a tiny room with a single door. Will hesitated—then knocked.

Seconds later, he heard the sound of multiple locks turning inside. Finally, the door opened a crack. A bloodshot eyeball examined Will, then disappeared. The door swung open wider, offering a view of a vast, dimly lit loft. Every surface in sight was coated with a spongy layer of dust and soot. What must have been a bicycle propped against the wall was now a shaggy, two-horned beast. Judging by its thickness, the dust had begun collecting for months.

"Shut the door," ordered the voice, which suddenly sounded far away. "And be sure to lock it."

Once he had secured the loft, Will traced the voice to another door at the far end of the hall. A weak strip of light at the bottom of a pair of curtains lit a once-luxurious bathroom. Now the claw-foot tub was filled with pillows and dirty bed linens. A stack of books teetered on top of a laundry basket, and hypodermic needles cluttered both sides of the porcelain sink. An easel stood near the window, displaying a half-finished painting. Perched on top of the closed toilet lid, with its arms wrapped around its knees, was a ghost dressed in a man's undershirt. It smiled at the horror on Will's face, its skin stretched tight across its bones.

"Are you okay? You don't look so good." Will offered Marcos.

Marcos's laugh sounded life-threatening. "I'm fine. I just don't sleep much anymore. Sorry about all the security. Did you see them?"

"Who?"

"The gray men. They've been watching the house since early this morning. Not a good sign."

"I didn't see anyone." Will wondered if Marcos was already high.

"You need to look harder," Marcos insisted, sounding quite lucid. "They blend in. That's their job."

Will pushed the door closed. The bathroom may have looked dingy and smelled worse, but it suddenly felt cozy and safe. At least you could be certain that no one was watching.

"Is that why you've been living in your bathroom?" Will asked. "Because you think people are spying on you?"

"No," Marcos said with a defeated shrug. "I don't really give a damn if they get me. I've been living in this room since Chris died. It hurts too much to look at all of his stuff out there."

"I'm sorry," Will said. "I know they just found his body. It must have been a horrible shock for you."

"It was only a body," Marcos replied. "And it wasn't a shock. I knew he was dead the night he disappeared."

"How did you know?" Will probed carefully.

"Chris and I hadn't spent a day apart since we met. He would never have left me. We didn't work without each other. You'll know what it's like when _you_ meet the right person."

The last sentence hit Will like a punch. "How long were you two together?" he followed up quickly. He didn't want Marcos to see he'd been rattled.

"Since we were thirteen years old."

"_Thirteen_? Wow. So young."

"It's not really that young if you've known each other for as long as we have. Then when we were seventeen we moved to New York together to join the Society."

"The Ouroboros Society?"

"That's the one." Marcos's spine stiffened. "You know about it?"

"I've heard of it," Will told him. "When did you and Chris become members?"

"A few years ago. We got the call right after the Omaha paper interviewed us for a story they did on child prodigies. The OS paid for us to come to New York, helped us divorce our parents, and loaned us the money for this apartment."

"That must have been a pretty big loan."

Marcos pulled his legs even closer to his chest. "Yeah. It took us forever to pay it back. Good thing Chris' skills were in such high demand. I have expensive habits to maintain, remember?" He showed Will one of his track mark-covered arms, and then quickly pulled it inside his filthy undershirt. "So who are you, anyway? What were you doing at the gallery last night?"

"Like I said, my name is Will Horton. And I was pretty sure I was Sonny Kiriakis's boyfriend until I saw you two together last night."

"Oh my God!" Marcos managed to exclaim before he burst into maniacal laughter. "I can't imagine what you must have thought."

Will couldn't force himself to laugh along. "Actually, I think you can."

"No, no, no," Marcos's wheezing was beginning to make Will nervous. He tried to remember the CPR training he'd gotten in gym class freshman year. "There's nothing going on between us. Sonny just likes to put on a show. He's _way_ too goody-goody for my taste."

"We are talking about Sonny _Kiriakis_, aren't we?" Will asked with a raised eyebrow. "The guy who makes the gossip columns three times a week?"

"Sonny's not as wild as he pretends to be. Christopher used to say that the stick up his butt had a stick up _its_ butt. Wouldn't touch drugs. Never really dated anyone. Spent all his time sucking up to Brian."

The statement chilled Will before he understood what it meant. "Wait. Brian Kahn? The president of the OS?"

"Didn't Sonny tell you he's one of the favorites over there? Brian doesn't deal with the drones. He only has time for the special ones. Or the rich ones like Sonny. You know, if he really is your boyfriend, you guys should probably spend some time getting to know each other a little better."

Will couldn't have agreed more. "Do you know the guy that Brian was with at the gallery last night? Adam Rosier?"

Marcos shook his head. "Don't think so, and I'm usually pretty good at remembering names. But there are a lot of people at the top I don't know. Anyway, I thought Brian came alone. I doubt he'd bring a date if he knew he was going to see Sonny. He's always hitting on him. Chris used to give Sonny shit about it all the time. Actually, he gave Sonny shit about almost everything. He was always jealous that we were friends."

"So they didn't get along?"

"They _hated_ each other."

"Did Sonny hate Christopher enough to kill him?" Will asked, relieved to get the big question out of the way.

Marcos scowled. "Those rumors are bullshit. Sonny couldn't kill anyone. Look, I'll be totally honest with you. Chris had a pretty serious drug problem. He'd try _anything _you put in front of him. The OS wasn't too happy with him, so they probably had somebody put the wrong thing in front of him. Hopefully, I'll be with Chris again soon. The way things are going, I doubt I have more than a few months left in me."

"Wait," Will said. "Back up a second. You think the _Ouroboros Society_ had something to do with Christopher's death?"

"People connected to the OS disappear all the time."

Will thought of all the innocent children he'd seen waiting in the Society's lobby. "Can you prove it?" he asked Marcos. "Do you know where Christopher could have gotten the drugs that killed him?"

Marcos shook his head. "They could have come from anywhere. Half the people in the Society deal drugs."

"The OS allows drug dealing, too!"

"It's a little more complicated than that." Marcos shifted his weight nervously. "You remember the Greek myth with Hades and Persephone? The one where the lord of the underworld kidnaps a girl and drags her down to hell?" Will nodded. "While she's down there, he puts this amazing feast in front of her. Every delicious thing you could possibly imagine. She knows she shouldn't touch anything, but the girl's starving, and after a while she can't resist. So when nobody's looking, she takes a few measly pomegranate seeds and pops them in her mouth. And that one little weakness dooms her. She's stuck in Hades."

Marcos paused, as if exhausted from talking.

"That's what the Ouroboros Society does. They put everything in front of you, but if you show an ounce of weakness, you're hooked for good. You start asking for things you can't afford. And when the bill comes, you find out that they own you."

"I'm not sure I understand."

Marcos turned his gaze to the light slipping under the bathroom curtain. "Why am I telling you all of this? I'm really not supposed to talk about these things. Society secrets, you know. I'm in enough trouble already."

"I'm just trying to find out what my boyfriend's been up to," Will reminded Marcos, choosing his words carefully, as if defusing a bomb. "Besides, who's going to listen to any gossip _I've_ got? You and Sonny are the only people I've met in New York," Will said, though that wasn't strictly true.

"All right. I guess I don't have much to lose at this point. I'll tell you how the Society works. But if anyone asks—including Sonny—you didn't hear it from me." Marcos began arranging the hypodermic needles on the side of the sink. "The OS accepts three kinds of members. People who've brought talents from previous lives. They're kind of like gods. Then there are the people who just remember things. They're the rank and file. And then there are the gray men."

"Gray men?"

Marcos looked up. "People call them that because they're so bland. They're the drones—the lowliest members of the OS—the wannabes. They weren't born with any memories or talents. They're just willing to do the Society's bidding. Keep everyone else in line."

"Why do they need to keep people in line?"

"Because of the system. Brian likes to say that the OS is the greatest networking organization in the world. The members are supposed to help each other. They'll get you into the right schools or loan you money or get you a gorgeous boyfriend. But then you have to pay the favor back."

"What's wrong with that?" Will asked. "It all sounds pretty good to me."

"Sure. It sounds good to everyone at first. But paying favors back can be tough for members like Sonny who don't have skills to trade. At least _he's_ got money. He can buy his way up the ranks. But a lot of members have to do whatever they can to keep their accounts in good standing. Some sell drugs. Some sell other things, if you know what I mean. And if you can't—or won't—take care of your debts, well, that's when the gray men show up."

The corner of a magazine was poking out from under the mildew-covered bathmat. Using the toe of his boot, Will slid the bath mat to one side. Beneath it was a music magazine with Christopher Moore on the cover. "Is that what happened to Chris?" he asked. "Did the gray men take him?"

"No, Chris's debts were paid a long time ago. All he had to do was perform at some big-shot member's fortieth birthday party, and he'd make a fortune in points. Chris just wanted out. He thought the whole system was sick. But my account is low. That's why the gray men are outside right now. I needed to sell some paintings last night, but there weren't any takers. And I'm not going to sleep with some nasty old guy for a few lousy points."

"So why don't you just leave?"

"You don't _quit_ the OS." Marcos started to fidget. "Hey, Will. Do you mind if we talk about something else now?"

"Can we talk about your visions?" Will asked, hoping they could return to the subject of the Society once Marcos felt comfortable again.

"Sure. I guess. What do you want to know?"

"How did they start? What sort of things do you see?"

"I've had them for years," Marcos said. "But they started to get really disturbing just after I moved to New York. I pass out for a few minutes and see something terrible happen. The same guy is always there, but I've never gotten a good look at his face. Afterward, I have to paint what I saw just to get it out of my head. I never thought a gallery would show the work. It's not exactly something most people would want to hang on their walls. But when Sonny saw the paintings, he insisted. He wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Do you have any idea what the visions mean?" Will asked.

Marcos stole a peek at the unfinished painting that was propped up on an easel in the corner of the bathroom. All Will could see was a chaos of colors. "I think they're things that have already happened. Some people get to look into the future. I'm only able to see the past. Just my luck."

"Maybe they're trying to tell you something," Will suggested.

"Well, if they are, I sure as hell haven't been able to figure it out. You want to take a look at the rest of my work? Maybe you can solve the puzzle."

"You have more paintings here? They're not all at the gallery?"

Marcos grinned. "Come on," he said.

The guy rose from the toilet seat and padded barefoot across the apartment, leaving a trail of footprints in the dust. He opened a door and motioned to Will to follow him. Inside a storeroom, painted canvases were piled three feet high. A narrow path wound around multiple stacks.

Will gasped. "How many are there?"

"All together? Around three hundred. Sometimes I do three or four a week. I can't seem to stop."

"And they're all different?"

"Yep."

Will pulled a canvas from the top of one of the stacks. It showed a group of ruffians gathered around a large hole in the ground. Inside the pit, a single snarling dog faced a fearsome army of rats. It was clear that real beasts in the painting weren't the animals about to fight for their lives but the men eager to witness the bloodshed. At the far edge of the crowd a faceless man was enjoying the spectacle.

"You said Sonny talked you into displaying your work?" Will asked, wondering why anyone would want to exhibit Marcos's terrifying tributes to the dark side of humanity.

"Yeah, he dropped by to see me a few weeks before Chris died to give me shit about using drugs. Then he saw a painting I was working on, and I swear, I thought he was going to pass out. After that he wouldn't stop pestering me to show at his gallery. Chris was totally against the idea. He said the paintings were dangerous. If he were still alive, there would never have been a show at all."

"Where's the painting that Sonny liked?"

"Here," said Marcos. "Funny thing is, Sonny didn't even want it at the gallery." He disappeared behind one of the stacks and returned moments later holding a poster-size painting in front of him. In the center of the work was a voluptuous, dark-haired guy. A fox stole clung to his shoulders, the poor creature's mouth clamped around its own lifeless tail. The guy's hands pressed against the chest of a young man with auburn hair, and his eyes pleaded silently. Beyond them, halfway down a hall that led to the room, a petite blonde watched the scene, his face contorted in horror. William. Behind him, at the end of the hall, stood the now familiar dark figure.

Just as Will's knees began to buckle, he was brought to his senses by the sound of the door buzzer.

"How about that. Two visitors in one day. I haven't been this popular in months," Marcos deadpanned. "Have a look around. I'll be right back."

"Hello?" Will heard him shout into the intercom.

"It's me," came the answer. It was Sonny.

Will rushed to Marcos's side. "Don't let him in!" he whispered.

"I can't talk now," Marcos told Sonny, an unmistakable note of anxiety in his voice. "I'm busy. Come back later."

"It can't wait, Marcos. Let me in, or I'll let myself in."

"Where's your fire escape?" Will asked as Marcos pressed the buzzer that unlocked the front door.

"There," Marcos said, pointing back at the room with the paintings. "But be careful or they'll see you go out that way. Don't let yourself be followed."

"Who's going to see me? Sonny's driver?"

"No, the gray men," Marcos said. "I know you think I'm crazy, but believe me, they're real."


	21. Chapter 21

Will managed to escape through the fire escape before Sonny found him at Marcos' place, that he was sure of. That there were many questions flooding his mind, too: What was Sonny doing at Marcos'? What are Marcos and Sonny really into? How long could he keep the tiniest speck of hope that Sonny was really the person he'd hoped for? After that he remembered asking himself: Are those men following me? Didn't Marcos said something about grey suits? However these questions were nothing compared to this: "Where am I?"

- Good morning, Mr. Horton. – said a young woman with a very popular hairstyle back in Salem - You are in the staff lounge at the Ouroboros Society. Now that you are feeling a bit better may I suggest you move on to the waiting room? Your appointment is in about five minutes.

- Appointment? – Will asked, very confused.

- Yes, you have a scheduled appointment with Mr, Kahn, the Society's president.

- Wait a minute, how did I get here?

- I'm sorry but I'm not authorized to answer these questions. – the woman said before she walked away.

WILL'S STOMACH SOURED as he sat in the waiting room, observing the latest batch of children who had come to the Ouroboros Society for past-life analysis. Beside him, a little blonde cherub with pigtails was busy kicking her heels against the legs of a leather chair. The girl's mother sat on her other side, filling out an endless form. Every few minutes, she leaned over to whisper questions to her hyperactive offspring. Will wondered if the girl might one day find herself at the top of the Society's ladder. Or maybe she would end up a drone. It was impossible to tell. Will wished he could warn her, but he couldn't imagine the child's mother would listen.

Young OS workers dressed in identical white-and-black outfits picked out individual kids from the crowd. With the same blank smiles on their faces, the employees led the little boys and girls down the hall, away from their proud parents.

"Hello." Will turned to see the little girl staring at him intently. "What's your name?"

"Will. What's yours?"

"Fiona." She resumed kicking the chair before another thought occurred to her. "You're pretty." She said nervously while looking down.

"Thank you." Will said, a little flattered. "You're pretty too."

"Thank you. Did you used to be someone else?"

"Yep." Will answered. "You?"

"Yes." The girl's head bobbed up and down. "My name was Constance. I lived in Africa, and I was a scientist."

Given Fiona's childish lisp, it wasn't the most convincing announcement.

"Really?" Will said. "What kind of scientist were you?"

"I was an epidemiologist. I studied diseases."

"That's cool," Will told her. The child had clearly been coached. She could barely _pronounce_ "epidemiologist."

"Excuse me, sir," the girl's mother interrupted. "I just need to ask my daughter one quick question. Fiona, what was it that you called Ebola the other day? It sounded a little like hemorrhoids."

The little girl glanced over at Will and rolled her eyes. "Hemorrhagic fever, Mommy. That's what I died of," she told Will. "And I was _this close_ to finding a cure."

"Mister Horton?" The receptionist was hovering over them. His uniform—comprised of a white, shortsleeved shirt, crisp black trousers, and thick-framed black glasses—gave him the appearance of a cartoon scientist. "Mr. Kahn can see you now."

With a clipboard clutched protectively to his chest, the receptionist guided Will down a long beige hall. Along the way, they passed a half-dozen rooms with observation windows set into the doors. Inside each room, an adult dressed in the Society's colorless uniform appeared to be examining a child. Just before she was deposited in an enormous office, Will saw a young redheaded boy burst into tears.

"Have a seat," Will was instructed. "Ms. Kahn will be back in a moment."

The room, like the Society's lobby, looked as though it had been decorated by robots. The floor was the glossy white of an ice-skating rink and the sofa upholstered in snowy suede that had never been sullied by human skin. There were no knickknacks, no paintings, no artifacts from the past. Only vases filled with white flowers. The place was as promising and as terrifying as a blank canvas.

Will recalled another scene after escaping Marcos' apartment, he'd recall seeing a man he somehow knew entering a building, a man he felt nothing but contempt entering a building with a golden plaque that read "The Rose Building", the same building Will knew his past life had seen Noel Underwood enter in one of his visions —Wait. It had to be, the man was Brian Kahn, it all made sense. How could Will not see that Brian and Noel were the same person, reborn. Now, over ninety years after the last acquaintance, Will was about to come face to face to his archrival. This was ought to not be pretty.

"I'D SAY IT WAS quite a coincidence—finding you on the street like that—if I believed in coincidences." Brian had entered the room. Up close, he looked even more charming, too charming. His eyes were too blue, his hair was perfectly disheveled, and his skin looked like the finest china among the bumps and curves of his toned muscles. He looked like a fine piece of male art. Will wanted to punch him in the throat. "Would you care for a cup of coffee?" the president of the OS inquired, gesturing to a silver coffee service on a console table near the door.

"No," Will said through clenched teeth. If he were any more wired, he might act on his urge to leap up and beat the man dead. Never before had he felt such an intense hatred for another human being.

Brian poured himself a cup of thick dark liquid and carried it with no noticeable caution across the white expanse. He placed it on a fragile-looking table and settled into a plush chair across from his guest. Will stared at the cup, its contents capable of staining everything around it. All it would take would be one tiny tremor.

"You're William McLaren." Brian kept his crystal blue eyes trained on Will as he sipped his coffee. He didn't disguise his dislike for the guy. "I found you in the street and had my people bring you back here. They told me you spoke while you were unconscious. You should really try to work on that. Goodness knows what you might give away."

"And you're Noel Underwood."

Brian smirked. The statement hadn't surprised him. It was almost as if he'd been expecting it. "What on earth were you doing at the seaport?"

"I saw you downtown," Will took a chance, since he wasn't really sure. "I followed you to the river." He began to sift through the long list of questions he wanted to ask. Why had Brian and Noel been down at the docks, at the Rose Building? Had Noel and Jackson been lovers? Why did so many OS members disappear? But Brian spoke first.

"Are you back to avenge William's death?" He seemed to enjoy the shock that registered on Will's face. "I always knew he'd fight back. I just didn't expect him to return quite so soon."

"You know the truth about what happened to William?" Will asked.

Brian regarded her coolly. "You don't?"

"That's why I came to New York. To find out."

Brian hesitated. "Are you sure you want to know? Sometimes it's best not to delve too deeply into the past. We've all had lives that would best be forgotten."

"I'm sure," Will confirmed. "And don't bother pretending that you give a damn about my feelings."

"Fine. Will was murdered," Brian stated bluntly. "By Jackson Montgomery."

Will had tried to prepare himself, but the answer still stung. "But _why_?"

"Because he got in the way."

"Got in the way of what? Your affair?"

Everything in the room was still. Will could hear someone admonishing a crying child outside in the hallway. A smirk began growing on Brian's face.

"What do you know about reincarnation?" he asked, ignoring Will's question. "Why do you think we keep coming back?"

"Dr. Strickland believed that we've come back to help mankind," Will said.

Brian dismissed the idea with a jaded roll of his eyes. "Strickland was nothing but a fool. The truth is, we keep coming back because we're too attached to earthly things. It could be money or power or sex or drugs. Each lifetime we're given the chance to overcome our addictions. Some of us do. Most of us don't.

"Strickland thought we could conquer our weaknesses by serving others. He wanted us all to take vows of poverty and devote our lives to performing good deeds. But human beings are greedy by nature. And human nature is too powerful to overcome."

"What does all this have to do with Jackson?" Will asked.

"Of all the people in the Society, Jackson was the most talented. Strickland never had much time for those who weren't born with gifts they'd brought from other lives. Even my skills never really impressed him. But Jackson remembered _everything_. He'd lived dozens of lives and he remembered them all. The old man treated Jackson like a son. Strickland never realized that it was all just a game. Jackson's real gift was making people trust him and then using their trust to destroy them. He did it to Strickland. And he did the same thing to you."

"To me?"

Judging by Brian's smug expression when he settled back in his chair, Will knew he was going in for the kill. "All Jackson ever wanted was your money. Everyone knew it but you. Even after he killed Strickland. Even after you caught him with me, you refused to believe the worst of him. You thought the two of you were going to run away together, but the whole time he was plotting to kill you. He was the one who set the fire downtown. It's a shame he didn't get out in time. We could have been so happy together."

"You're making this up," Will snarled, hanging on to the last speck of hope. Brian seemed to be savoring the story a little too much.

"Am I?" Brian paused to moisten his lips. "Then here's something to think about. Do you remember that you and Jackson were meant to leave for Rome the night you died?"

"Yes, but how do you know that? It was a secret."

"How else would I know? Jackson _told_ me. But then he postponed your trip at the very last minute. Don't you see? It was all part of his plan. He used the promise of Rome to win you back and convince you to be with him. He never booked passage on any ship. He planned to kill you as soon as he was in a position to inherit your fortune."

Brian's version accounted for everything Will had seen in his visions. "How could Will have been so stupid?" he muttered.

"It has nothing to do with stupidity." Brian gazed at Will with something like pity. "Isn't it obvious? Jackson Montgomery is _your_ addiction. He's the reason you keep coming back. He could sweet-talk William into believing just about anything. I saw him do it a million times."

Will held her tongue.

"You don't think it's possible to be addicted to another person?" Brian added. "Believe me, it's not that uncommon. How else would you explain love at first sight?"

"I suppose it makes sense," Will admitted reluctantly. He thought of the previous night. Sonny had lied to him, abused his trust, yet he still hadn't been able to say no to him.

"I'm sorry," Brian said, though his smile suggested otherwise. "This must all be terribly painful for you. But now you can go back to Kentucky or West Virginia or wherever it is that you're from and move on with your life."

But there was still one thing that Will couldn't figure out. "If everything you say is true, why did the Society allow him to become a member again?"

"Who?" Brian demanded, lurching forward and spilling his coffee on the pristine white rug. Will instantly knew he had said too much. "Are you telling me that Jackson is back?"

Will watched the coffee seep into the rug's fibers. How could Brian not know that Sonny was Jackson?

"If you have any information about Jackson, I insist that you give it to me!" The man was on his feet and moving toward Will's chair. "Has Adam heard about this?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the boy insisted, leaping up before Will had a chance to reach him.

"You do! I can see it. You're lying! You know where he is!"

"Go to hell." Will was out of the snowy white office and on his way down the hall.

"You can't leave!" Brian insisted. His composure vanished as he chased Will through the lobby and toward the exit, where he grabbed for the guy's elbow. "Weren't you listening to _a word_ I just said?"

With his fists clenched, Will wheeled around to face Brian. "You better take your hand off of me. I'd love an excuse to teach you a lesson. You sure you want to give me one?"

The waiting room went silent. Even the smallest pair of eyes was trained on them. Brian released his grip, straightened his posture, and smoothed his suit. "I'll be watching you," he whispered to Will. "If Jackson's somewhere on this planet, you can be sure that I'll find him." Then he spun and stormed down the hall.

WILL TOOK TWO TRAINS, a bus, and a cab just to make sure that he wasn't being followed. All he wanted to do was grab his suitcase and get the hell out of town. He had come to New York for answers, and he'd found them. Will Horton had fallen in love with the wrong man. And that man had killed him. Will wondered if his visions would stop now that he'd learned the truth about Jackson. Or would he always be tormented by images of the person who'd betrayed him and broken his heart?

Will already knew the answer. The attraction—the need to be with him—was as strong as it had ever been. He would have to fight the addiction for the rest of his life—maybe longer.

As he walked south on University Place, Will's dark thoughts were interrupted by the honking of horns and the murmur of a crowd in the distance. He soon found dozens of men with cameras swarming the entrance to the Washington Mews, some pressed against the gates and others spilling into the street. The crowd parted as a black Mercedes pushed through. Two daredevil photographers leaped in front of the moving car, snapping pictures through its windshield. It wasn't Sonny's Mercedes, but they didn't seem to know that.

"Did you do it, Sonny?" a paparazzo shouted.

"Where's Marcos Van Melaswen?"

"Have you talked to the cops?"

"Did you murder him like you murdered his boyfriend?"

As the Mercedes drove away, the crowd began to thin. A portly man with a camera stomped past Will, heading for a car he'd left double-parked down the street.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"If Kiriakis keeps killing people, he's going to make me a very rich man," the man called back over his shoulder.


	22. Chapter 22

**I've updated this chapter, sorry for the people who read before I realised that excel tables do not keep their format here, I did not know. Sorry, but its updated :)**

Will found himself running away from the place he'd first seen while on New York, because now his goddamn boyfriend had apparently decided to take someone else down. Great.

"Anything else?" A waitress came to hover over Will's table. She was young, with Crayola-colored hair swept back into an elegant chignon. "Another cappuccino?"

"Sure," Will said, buying another half hour at the dingy café a few blocks from Washington Square Park. He didn't dare move until Chad answered his calls. If only Chad would answer his calls.

"By the way," the waitress said under her breath as she leaned in to clear away Will's old cup, "have you noticed you have an admirer?"

"A what?" Will blurted.

"Shhh. He's over by the espresso machine. No! Don't look now," the girl hissed when Will craned his neck. "Wait until I'm gone if you want to see him."

"Can you at least tell me what he looks like?" Will pleaded.

"An accountant, maybe?" the girl suggested. "Or maybe an undertaker? Anyway, he came in right after you, and he's been stealing looks at you all this time. At first I thought it might be a coincidence, but you've been here for a while now, and he still hasn't left."

"Crap!" Will whispered.

The waitress nodded as if her sickest suspicions had been confirmed. "He's stalking you, isn't he?" she asked.

"Probably," Will admitted.

"Okay, don't panic," the girl said, keeping up appearances by wiping the table with a smelly rag. "Just go to the men's room. There's a window that opens up on the alley. People use it all the time when they want to skip out on the bill."

"What about all the coffee I've had? How am I supposed to pay for it?"

"Coffee's on me," the girl said. "You look like a real sweet guy, and by the way he's staring, your sweetness may not last long."

"Thanks," Will told her. "I really appreciate this." As he stood up and made his move toward the restroom, he caught sight of the man sitting by the espresso machine, dressed in the drab uniform of the gray men. When he glanced up at Will, a jolt of terror left him shaking. He'd taken so many precautions, and still they'd managed to find him.

"Good luck," the waitress whispered.

The state of the café bathroom made Will happy he hadn't ordered food. Even the EMPLOYEES MUST WASH HANDS sign was covered in a layer of grime and muck. But the window above the toilet opened just as the waitress had promised. Fortunately, Will landed safely on his feet in the alley and took off running.

When he finally stopped to catch his breath, he found himself in the center of Greenwich Village, surrounded by tiny brick buildings that would have looked ancient even to William's eyes. The narrow, winding streets were empty and the sidewalks deserted. It felt as if he'd wandered into a ghost town in the middle of Manhattan. For the twentieth time in two hours, Will dialed Chad's number.

This time he answered with a lazy "Yup?"

"It's three P.M.! Where have you been? Didn't you get all my messages?" He could hear the hysteria in his own voice.

"Excuse me? I've been _working_. Dad decided we needed to plant a crop of corn in the backyard. I'm really starting to wonder if the old man might be losing his mind—"

"I've been trying to reach you for _hours_." Will cut him off.

"I didn't realize I was on call," Chad snapped. "What's going on with you, anyway?"

"Aside from running away from all the weird men who've been following me? I went back to get my suitcase, and there were fifty guys with cameras lurking outside. I can't go home, and I don't have Internet access, and I have no idea what's happening."

"D'you ever consider going to a library? Or a computer store? Or a copy shop? There must be about forty places within a block of you that have Internet access."

Will wasn't amused. "I don't have time to hunt down a computer right now. I just had to climb out a bathroom window and run halfway across town to escape from some creep who was watching me. So do you think you could take a look at the Internet and tell me what's going on?"

"Since you asked so sweetly. Let's see what I can find." He heard the sound of the computer starting and Chad scratching himself. "Hmmm."

"What?"

"Hold on, I'm reading!" The minute-long pause was excruciating. "Marcos Van Melaswen is missing."

"That's what I thought! But how? I talked to him this morning."

"You talked to him _this_ morning?" Chad asked.

"I told you I was going to see him."

"Well, you must have been one of the last people who _did_ see him. They say he's been kidnapped. A neighbor saw Marcos being dragged out of his apartment around nine thirty and called the police."

"Oh my God," Will whispered. He listened to the clicking of Chad's mouse in the background and tried to remember what time he'd left Marcos's house.

"Damn . . ." Chad murmured.

"What?"

"Will?" Chad asked cautiously. "I got something important to ask you. I want you to think real careful."

"Okay."

"Do you know where your boyfriend was today?"

"Why?" Will asked, already bracing for the answer he knew was on the way.

"Marcos' neighbor described the kidnapper, and he sounds just like Sonny. Will?" Chad asked when he heard the gasp on the other end of the line.

"I knew it! He was there," Will whispered in horror. "He took him."

"Don't joke like that."

"I was at Marcos's house when Sonny showed up. I had to leave through the fire escape. I think he's going to kill him."

"_What_?"

"I'm serious, Chad. Sonny's dangerous. There's no doubt now. Brian Kahn told me that Jackson really did kill William and August Strickland for their money—"

"Wait. You talked to Brian Kahn, the Ourobororososos' godknowswhat?"

"Yeah," Will said, "but I found out that he used to be Noel Underwood. He said that Jackson set the fire in the mews house."

"He said that?" Chad asked.

"Yeah, he did. He also told me that he and Jackson we-" Will was cut off by an audible sigh in Chad's voice.

"Oh my god Will… OK, step by step. Brian's Noel, right?"

"…Right."

"So that means Noel was into Jackson," Chad continued. "Right?"

"Yeah…" Will was starting to get Chad's point.

"Dude… I love you, you know that, but, come on!" Chad yelled. "Are you really gonna take notes from the guy who wanted to get into your boy's pants in a past life?"

"But…"

"But what? Look, you were with Sonny in a past life, that means you loved Sonny in a past life, and you can deny it all you want, but you, at the very least, fell for Sonny in the beginning… so that means that love, or addiction, or want stays through lifes. Do you see where I'm going?"

"I-I" Will took a note to facepalm himself to death later.

"You-you, are even more incapable of self-preservation than I thought if you don't think that Brian wants to ride the Jackson-stick, and will tell you all kinds of bull to get you to back off!" Chad seemed pretty annoyed at Will's lack of common sense.

"OK, OK, point taken, deleting all Brian related files… but that does not mean that Sonny, AND Jackson apparently killed TWO people."

"Well that's true, but you see, you just killed Brian off from your mind, now what you have to do is cross Sonny out from freedom."

"How?"

"I don't know… duh! Tell the police!"

"Tell them what? That my boyfriend killed two people in his last life? They'll lock _me_ away."

"…Tell them about Christopher Moore, then" Chad urged him.

"Tell them what? I don't know anything about what happened to Christopher Moore! And from what you just told me, I don't know any more about the Marcos Van Melaswen case than the tabloids!"

"You're right, you're right." Chad tried to calm him. "I just don't get it. Why would Sonny want to kill Marcos Van Melaswen? I thought they were having an affair."

"I was wrong. Marcos swore they're just friends. He also told me people disappear from the OS all the time. They've got some system where people do favors for each other. If you can't repay all the favors you've received, then they have someone take you out. Marcos's account was getting low. So maybe the Society had Sonny deal with him."

"Hold up. You're saying the _Ouroboros Society_ has people killed?"

"Marcos claims it's totally corrupt. They even have people called 'gray men' to make sure everyone stays in line."

"And you've been _dating_ a member of this organization, who's also an alleged serial killer? What are you in, some sort of competition between Britney Spears and Rihanna as to who has the worst boyfriend?" Chad marveled.

"Haha, but that's one of the weirdest parts. Sonny's a member of the OS, but Brian has no idea who he was in his last life. He's been hiding his real identity."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, I know one thing. I don't want you going anywhere near Sonny Kiriakis if you think he might be a part of all this."

"_You_ don't want me?" Will asked.

"Come _on_," Chad groaned. "You were taking a bath at his house when I talked to you this morning. We both know what that means. So if Sonny Kiriakis asks you to vouch for his whereabouts, you just tell him _no_. I don't care how good the nookie is. I don't want you doing time for some serial killer."

"I wouldn't help Sonny Kiriakis right now if my life depended on it. But somebody has to save Marcos."

"That's what the police are for. Jesus, Will. Is _any_ of this sinking into your thick skull? You gotta be careful. Promise me you'll be careful."

"I will," was all Will was willing to say. He finally understood why William had wanted him to find Jackson. He wanted Will to stop him from killing again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Will's cell phone rang the moment he put it back in his pocket.

"Hi there. Where are you?"

Murderer or not, Sonny's voice could still send his heart racing. Will battled to keep his emotions under control. What was wrong with him? Will wondered. After everything he'd learned, how could he still be in love with Sonny Kiriakis?

"Greenwich Village," he told him. "Shopping," he added.

"Have you been home this afternoon?" He made it sound like nothing more than an ordinary question.

"Yeah," Will said. "There are paparazzi all over the place. One of them said Marcos Van Melaswen has disappeared. Everyone seems to think you're responsible. Are you?"

There was a slight pause. "I'd rather explain in person," Sonny said. "I'm sending a car now. It will meet you on the corner of Christopher Street and Seventh Avenue. Can you get there in fifteen minutes?"

"That depends. Where exactly am I going?"

"Sixty-fifth Street. Don't worry—the driver knows the address. I'll see you soon."

Will knew Chad would never approve of what he was about to do, but someone had to try to save Marcos. And Will was starting to suspect he was the girl's last hope.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, the car pulled up in front of an understated apartment building on one of the most exclusive streets in the city. A doorman ushered Will to the elevator lobby and inserted a key above the buttons. Trapped inside the shiny, elegant box, Will rode silently to the twenty-fifth-floor penthouse, staring at his image in the elevator's polished brass. It was only four o'clock.

The elevator doors opened, and Sonny met him with a kiss.

"What is this place?" Will asked, pulling away from him. They were standing in a marble foyer decorated with ornate furniture and statues of naked Greek gods.

"My father's old apartment," Sonny explained. "He liked to call this his Donald Trump room. I've been trying to sell the place, but Dad's taste in home decor seems to scare off potential buyers. Do you think you can stand it for a few days? We'll have to stay here until the paparazzi calm down."

"I'll stay if you tell me where to find Marcos Van Melaswen."

Sonny laughed as though he hadn't understood. He seemed awfully relaxed for a killer. "Pardon me?"

"You kidnapped him. So where is he?"

"I did not _kidnap_ Marcos," Sonny said. "He's probably on a beach somewhere by now. God knows he needed to clean up and get some color."

"But—"

"Forget about Marcos. I have something for you. Something that should keep you busy until we have a chance to get back to Rome. It's in the house, but you're going to have to find it."

Will opened his mouth to argue, then shut it just as quickly. The grin on Sonny's face was so lighthearted that he couldn't bear to confront him. He'd never encountered such an excellent actor.

"It's somewhere in this apartment?" he finally muttered. "You want to give me a hint?"

"Have a look around," Sonny insisted. "You'll know it when you see it."

Will wandered through a dozen dreary rooms, most decorated with a herd's worth of leather upholstery, a painting of a naked lady, and at least two mounted animal heads. Thick curtains blocked out the sunlight, and the air still bore a hint of cigar smoke. In Justin Kiriakis' wood-paneled study, Will discovered a series of black-and-white photographs hanging on the wall. Each showed Sonny at a different age, and all appeared to have been taken when the boy wasn't looking. There was Sonny reading a leather-bound copy of _Faust_. Sonny poised to dive into an alpine lake. Sonny looking wistfully out a window at the rain. But the photos appeared to stop before Sonny reached his teenage years. It was as if the boy in them had suddenly died.

Not far from the study, Will came upon a bedroom that might have belonged to the Sonny in the pictures. It appeared oddly empty, as if it were being slowly dismantled. There were a few bright patches on the blue walls where pictures had been recently removed, and there were large gaps between the few books that were left in the bookcase. Even the bureau drawers were bare. Whatever clues Will might have been able to find had been carefully spirited away.

At the far end of the hall, Will came to a larger bedroom set in the corner of the building. The curtains were open, and two walls of windows looked out over New York City. With sunshine pouring in, Will could tell that the room had recently been dusted and cleaned. The white bedspread looked new and even the paint smelled fresh. His suitcase rested on a luggage rack near the closet. Sonny's black messenger bag was hanging on the back of a chair. On the desk was his mobile phone.

Will froze momentarily as his fingers gripped the device. Finally, he had access to some answers he could trust. He listened for the sound of footsteps in the hall. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Sonny moving about. He tapped the phone with one finger and the screen lit up. On the bottom right corner was a familiar icon. As breathless as a tomb raider cracking the lock on an underground vault, Will clicked the spinning silver snake. It expanded to take over the entire screen. When it stopped rotating, eight options appeared on the screen.

_Rules and Regulations_

_Communicate with Members_

_Society News_

_Suggestions_

_Your Account_

_Report New Charges_

_Dispute Charges_

_Inbox_

Will tapped _Your Account_ and found himself staring at what looked like a bank statement. He gasped as he began to read. At the top of the page, in bold letters, was written, _Sonny Kiriakis, member since 2007_. Beneath that, two columns listed _Deposits_ and _Withdrawals_. Beside most were names and short descriptions.

Will stared at the statement, his eyes passing over the long list of escorts until he reached the item at the bottom: a deposit made to Sonny's account the day before. Who had made it? What was it for? And what had been deposited? It couldn't be money, Will decided. The numbers made that impossible. He paged through previous statements. Most of the withdrawals were for guys, though there were quite a few deposits labeled _Cash donation_ or _Business loan_. Sonny had been using his fortune to keep his Ouroboros Society account in good standing. And he was using his credit to buy sex. Will knew this was the system Marcos had mentioned—the one that Christopher Moore had found so disgusting.

_Date __Member __Description __Deposit __Withdrawal __Balance_

_4/2 __G. Stewart __Escort: Chandler - __15 __110 _

_4/6 __G. Stewart __Escort: Freddie - __15 __95_

_4/15 __G. Stewart __Escort: Casey - __15 __80_

_4/22 __G. Stewart __Escort: Vito - __15 __65_

_4/27 __G. Stewart __Escort: Chandler - __15 __50_

_4/30 __Administrative __Cash donation __20 - __75_

_5/4 __G. Stewart __Escort: Hunter - __15 __60_

_5/10 __Marcos Van Melaswen __Gallery loan __10 - __70_

_5/26 __G. Stewart __Escort: Freddie - __15 __55_

_5/26 __G. Stewart __Escort: Chandler - __15 __40_

_6/15 __Administrative __Confidential __75 - __115_

On the upper-right corner of the screen, a red envelope logo flashed three times then disappeared. Will left the _Your Account_ page and navigated to _Inbox_. A message labeled _Urgent_ had just been sent by Brian Kahn. It opened automatically.

_I just picked up your voice mail. I have meetings tomorrow. How about Wednesday? Café Marat on Nineteenth Street at 8?_

Will made a mental note of the message before he closed it and opened the next. It was from Marcos Van Melaswen, and it had been written only two days earlier:

_They're outside the house. I need to get out while I still can._

The third was a note to all members from Brian:

_Dear All,_

_I shouldn't need to remind members of the importance of keeping one's account in good standing. However, a spate of recent bankruptcies has convinced me that there are many in the Ouroboros Society who could benefit from a refresher._

_It is your personal duty to ensure that your account maintains a minimum balance of fifteen points at all times. Should your balance dip below this level, your account will be frozen and you will face disciplinary action. If it drops to zero, you will be immediately expelled from the Society. Necessary steps will then be taken to prevent you from revealing critical information to the public or the press. Those who attempt to betray the Society will be severely punished._

_There is no excuse for any member to ever face expulsion. Points are easy to earn, even for those of inferior rank. If your balance is low, I recommend contacting Mr. Gordon Stewart or Ms. Theda Devine to ask about employment opportunities. They can help you find ways to provide essential services to high-ranking members—while allowing you to earn the points you'll need to recover your standing within the community._

_We are the Eternal Ones, and the Ouroboros Society was created to help us maintain our rightful roles in this world. But the system will not work unless everyone plays his or her part. All we ask is that you keep a suitable account balance._

_Brian Kahn, President_

Just as Will closed the message he realized he was no longer alone.

"Did you find it?" Sonny's face fell when he saw the phone in his hands. He said nothing as he turned and left the room.

When Will started to charge after him, he finally saw what he'd been meant to find. A small sign tacked to a door on the far side of the bedroom read FOR WILL. With Sonny's phone still clenched in one hand, he turned the knob and stepped into an adjoining chamber. A series of blank canvases, shelves full of cleanly labeled bottles of paints of every color imaginable and all the types of brushes in the world in another shelf.

Will's eyes explored the little room, his feelings shifting every second. He couldn't land on a single emotion. Beneath the anger, guilt, heartbreak, and fear, he even sensed a little hope struggling to break through. Will was careful to leave it behind when he left to look for Sonny.

Will found Sonny in the apartment's kitchen. Big enough for a crew of chefs, the cavernous room seemed a lonely place for a single cook. Sonny had been preparing dinner when he arrived, and one small section of the granite countertop was littered with onion peels and carrot tops. Now he stood amid the makings of his meal with a knife in one hand and a tomato in the other, as if he could barely summon the will to move. If Will hadn't been so angry, his heart might have broken at the sight.

"I didn't know you were such an _active_ member of the Ouroboros Society," he said, launching his attack.

At first Sonny refused to look at him. "I don't recall saying I wasn't. You knew I was a member. I never hid it from you."

It was true, he had to admit. "I saw the list of guys in your account. How long have you been hiring rentboys?"

The question got his attention, but the disgust on Sonny's face made Will question his line of attack. "Did it _say_ they were rentboys?" he asked.

"It said they were escorts."

"Exactly. And that's what they did. They _escorted_ me. Anything else would have cost a lot more."

"But why hire escorts in the first place?"

Sonny turned to face him. With his chin up and arms crossed, he looked ready to withstand all assaults on his character. "I was waiting for you. But I had to keep up appearances, and for that I needed dates for the parties I went to. I didn't want to take anyone who might think I was actually interested. So I hired male models as escorts. It worked out rather well until now, I'd say."

"And you never—"

"Never. If you don't believe me, you can log back into my account. Send a message to Gordon Stewart. He's the guy who makes the dates. See what _he_ says."

Will was beginning to feel foolish. He'd never imagined there could be an innocent explanation for what he'd seen. Still, he refused to stop. "What about Marcos? What happened to him?"

"That's another thing. How do you know about Marcos anyway?"

"I saw you guys together at your father's gallery. I thought you two might be involved, but then I went to see him—"

Sonny's left eyebrow rose. "Wait a second. You were at the gallery?"

"I followed you," Will said.

"Do you know how dangerous that was? You came very close to getting yourself in a great deal of trouble." Clearly horrified by the thought, Sonny didn't linger on the subject. "So what did Marcos tell you when you went to see him?"

"He said you guys were just friends."

"Then I guess I've been proved innocent once more. When should I expect an apology?"

"Not yet. I was there this morning when you showed up at his apartment right before he disappeared. Did you take him?"

"Yes," Sonny admitted.

Will took a stumbling step backward as if he'd been punched. "You did?"

"Marcos was in trouble. I had to help him leave town. That's one of the reasons I came back to New York when I did. But I had to keep my plans a secret. Even Marcos didn't know anything until I went to get him. He landed in Mexico three hours ago. Now there are _two_ people who know that. Let's try and keep it that way. Anything else?"

Will was no longer feeling so confident. He was in danger of hurting someone whose actions and motives might have been nothing but noble. "I spoke with Brian Kahn after I went to see Marcos."

"Oh _God_, Will!" Sonny picked up his knife and slammed its tip into the wooden cutting board. "I thought I warned you to stay away from the Ouroboros Society."

"Well, why didn't you _tell_ me what was going on there with the drug dealing and the gray men? Why did _Marcos_ have to explain it to me?"

"So Marcos told you about the OS? How high _was_ he when you talked to him? Do you have any idea how much danger he put himself in? How much danger he put _you_ in?"

Will had never thought of it that way.

"And what did you and _Brian_ discuss?" Sonny demanded.

"Brian was Noel Underwood."

"I _know_, Will. Does he know who you were?"

"Yes."

"What did you tell him? It's important that I know. Did you tell him who I am?"

Will ignored the question. "He said Jackson murdered William and Dr. Strickland."

Sonny nodded stoically, as if his worst fears were being realized. "You see? This is _exactly_ why I didn't want you to go there. Brian would say anything to come between us. And I bet he can be quite persuasive, can't he?"

"I figured that, so Jackson didn't kill anyone?"

"Not a single person. Ever. I swear. I _hope_ you didn't tell Brian about me, did you?"

"No," Will said. "But he has a hunch that Jackson is back."

"Damn it! Do you have any idea how hard it's been to hide my identity from him? I've had to invent an entire past life!" Sonny took a deep breath to cool his temper. "We'll need to get out of New York before they figure it all out. Now do you understand why we can't be photographed together?" he asked, and Will nodded. "Is there anything else you want to ask me? Has anyone else been whispering lies in your ear?"

"No."

"Are you _sure_?"

"Positive."

"When did all this detective business start, anyway? What did I ever do to make you mistrust me?"

"You lied about the phone in Rome. You lied about having dinner with your lawyer. You lied about—"

"Okay," Sonny stopped him, his anger fading. "Those were fibs. I'll admit it. But my intentions were good." Sonny spoke in a quieter voice.

"You know what they say about good intentions," Will said.

"You have no idea how true that really is," Sonny replied, picking up the last tomato and chopping it into fine chunks.

"Sonny?" Will said once he'd finished.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry. I got carried away. I just have one more question."

"Yes?"

"If you're innocent, why are you putting up with all of this from me?" Will asked.

"Because I love you," Sonny said simply. "I always have. I love your bad temper. I love your jealous streak. I love your strength and pigheadedness. And I know you love me. And sometimes love makes people go a little crazy. The insanity won't last forever . . . I hope."

"But if we're really meant to be together, shouldn't this be a lot easier?" Will asked. "Why has it all been so hard?"

Sonny threw the chopped tomato into the pot and wiped his hands on a dish towel. "Come here," he ordered. When Will was close, he wrapped his arms around him and kissed his forehead. "Don't expect me to be perfect. Despite all my lives, I'm still only human. I can't deliver perfection, and I'll only disappoint you. But I want you to remember that you're the most important thing in the world to me. I'm trying to protect you," he said. "Do you understand?"

Will nodded.

"Sometimes I'm going to screw things up. I may even tell a white lie now and then. But you have to give me the benefit of the doubt, okay?"

"I will." Will was actually believing it himself.

"And do you promise to never go near the OS again?"

"I promise."

"Good. Dinner's going to take a while to cook. Can you think of anything we can do to pass the time?"

Will giggled. "Nope," he said.

"How about a guided tour of the house?" Sonny offered, wrapping his arms around his waist and gently sucking Will's earlobe. "How about we start with the bedrooms?"

LATER THAT NIGHT, Will woke from a vivid dream. The world he'd visited with him eyes closed was an ancient, mysterious place that bore no resemblance to the one Will had seen in his visions. He'd been greeted by a voluptuous woman, her body clothed in shimmering golden robes. The woman held both hands over her head, and in each fist writhed a poisonous snake. Three more serpents twisted about the woman's torso. As the woman opened her mouth to speak, Will sat upright.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he saw Sonny beside him, lying face down on the bed. His back was bare, proudly displaying the multiply hickeys and faint red lines Will left there. He let his fingers trace the length of his spine. When he reached the base, Sonny moaned softly and the sheet shifted, exposing a small tattoo of a silver serpent swallowing its tail.


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey guys! As few as you are I wanted to thank you for taking the time to continue reading my story, I know its somewhat slow and not that Wilson filled, so thank you for reading it :) Also, let me remind you that this is not my creation, it's an adaptation. All rights to the author and its publisher (which I don't know), Kirsten Miller :) Oh and NBC (Days' Will and Sonny, and others)**

"Will," Sonny whispered in his ear.

Will opened one eye. "Where are you going?" he asked when he saw he was dressed.

"Something's come up. I have to meet with my lawyers," he said, forcing a smile. "And this time I'm telling the truth." His attempt at a joke fell flat. Will could see he was worried.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"It will be." Sonny bent down and kissed him. "I forgot to stock up on coffee for you, but there's a café a couple of blocks down Lexington if you need some. I'll be back in a few hours."

When he heard the elevator doors open and shut, Will propped himself up in bed and stared out the bedroom window. Across Central Park stood the Andorra, its two towers reflected in the lake below. Kate Roberts' terrace was just a speck of green on the hulking beige facade. Yet that one patch of color taunted Will. He had arrived in New York a week earlier and was still no closer to finding the truth about what had happened back in 1925 to the boy from the other side of the park. If Jackson hadn't killed William—who had?

The cell phone in Will's bag rang, and he leaped out of bed trying to get to it in time. He saw that it wasn't Sonny or Chad just before the call went to voice mail.

"Will, this is your mother." It wasn't a particularly friendly way to start a message. "Marlena was looking through a magazine this morning, and you would not believe what she came across. A picture of her very own grandson. With a boy. In Rome. As you might imagine, she was on the phone to Dr. Carver the second she saw it. Hunted him down on vacation to tell him that your demon has finally taken control.

"I warned you, Will Horton. I told you it was time to come home. Now, if you aren't on your way to Salem by this evening, Marlene is going to report you as a runaway, and we'll have the New York City police find you and haul your bottom to the train station. I'm sorry it's come to this, but you've really left us no choice."

Will stared at the phone. So Marlena the hypocrite liked to read a little gossip now and then, did she? It figured. Will erased the message and pulled on some clothes. He needed coffee to deal with this unfortunate turn of events.

The café on Lexington was packed, and the line snaked out the door and onto the sidewalk. Will dialed Chad as he began walking south, looking for a less crowded option.

"Will?" Chad didn't wait for him to respond. "Are you safe? You had me so worried that I barely got an hour of sleep."

"I did?" Will wondered. "Oh, yeah. It was a false alarm. Sonny didn't kidnap Marcos."

"A false alarm?" Chad scoffed. "How the hell . . . Hold on. I can't wait to hear all about this, but you'll have to let me call you back in a minute. I'm on the other line."

Will kept walking. None of the cafés in Midtown seemed to suit him. He was already across from Grand Central Station, beneath the giant steel gargoyles of the Chrysler Building when he finally heard his phone ring.

"That was a lot longer than a minute," Will pointed out. "It's been at least half an hour."

"Don't get all snippy at me." Chad said. "What's all this about a false alarm, anyway?"

"Sonny didn't kidnap Marcos. He just helped him get out of town. I guess he was in trouble with the OS."

"And what about all the things Brian Kahn told you?"

"Lies," Will said. "He'd do just about anything to keep William and Jackson apart. That's why Sonny had to keep his real identity a secret from the Society."

"And you believe all this?"

"Of course!"

"Well, I sure hope this is the end of the roller-coaster ride, Will." Chad still sounded skeptical. "I was starting to get kind of nauseous. So what are you going to do now? Live happily ever after with your billionaire boyfriend?"

"I don't know. Sonny had to get up early this morning to go see his lawyers. I have a feeling something's happened with the Christopher Moore case," Will began to explain before he recalled his own troubles. "But listen—I didn't call to talk about all of this. I need you to do me a favor."

"Okay. What is it this time?"

"Marlene saw that picture of me in Rome, and now my mom says she's going to report me as a runaway. Will you go talk to Mom and work your magic? Try to calm him down?"

"Why can't you call your mother?"

"'Cause if I talk to her, she'll expect me to tell her everything, and I don't want to be forced to lie. But if you let her know that the picture is just a big misunderstanding, that might be enough to convince her to call off the dogs for a while."

"So you're saying you're too big a wuss to call your own mother."

"Yeah," Will admitted.

"I appreciate the honesty," Chad said. "But at some point I'm going to have to take some time off from being your slave so I can start living my own life."

"Spending all your free time trawling the Internet for juicy gossip doesn't count as a life."

"You're hilarious."

"It's a gift. So will you do it?"

"I'll try to drop by there later," Chad said. "But I still say this would be an excellent day to start doing your own dirty work."

"Why bother when you're so good at it?"

"Funny. Goodbye, Will."

"Goodbye, Chad."

WILL STEPPED INTO a patch of morning sun as he crossed the street. He felt his pale skin start to sizzle before he stepped back into the shadows cast by the buildings of Lexington Avenue. He hurried through two more patches before he suddenly found himself facing a dead end. The avenue no longer stretched out before him. A pair of wrought-iron gates blocked his path. Beyond the fence, Gramercy Park was empty and in bloom. Pink flowers lined the paths like garlands at a wedding. The air bore the scents of freshly cut grass and freesia, and tree branches framed the row of beautiful mansions on the other side of the park. Will tried to recall the route he'd taken through Midtown. How had he walked so far without noticing?

"Hello, Will."

A young man was approaching the gates from inside the park. Tall and lean, he strolled at a confident, leisurely pace, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. Everything he was wearing—from his black T-shirt to his shoes—looked new, never worn. He was very handsome, Will thought, though it was difficult to see his features clearly beneath the bright morning sun. He might not have recognized him if it hadn't been for the chunky black glasses that sat on his nose. Will suspected they were more of a fashion statement than a necessity.

"Hello, Adam," he replied.

He was now standing less than two feet away, with only a row of iron bars between them. "How lucky to run into you. I was just taking my morning constitutional. Would you like to get that cup of coffee we spoke about?"

Will knew he should turn around and leave. He'd promised Sonny he'd never return to the Ouroboros Society. And after everything he'd learned, he couldn't understand what might have drawn him back to Gramercy Park. Had some part of himself wanted to return? "I'm not sure I have time," he told Adam. "I'll need to head back soon."

"What's the rush?" Adam's resonant voice was hard to resist. "Wouldn't you like to take a quick stroll through the park? It's lovely this time of year, and I've been looking forward to seeing you again."

It was flattering to be admired by someone so sure of himself. With his good looks and confidence, Adam could have had anyone. Will was curious to know why he seemed to have settled on him. So when Adam unlocked the gate, he took a quick look behind him and stepped inside. There was no harm in joining him for a walk, he thought.

"How have you been?" he asked as they ambled side by side. A breeze whipped around them, blending the park's aromas with less pleasant odors from outside the gates. Once or twice Will caught a whiff of something old and musty—like a mausoleum opened for the first time in a century. "Have you enjoyed your time in New York so far?"

"It's been a little crazy," Will confided, glancing up at him companion. His long pale face with its prominent cheekbones and strong jaw seemed too perfectly formed to be real.

"I can only imagine," Adam said. "Have you had a chance to think about joining the Ouroboros Society?"

"Yes," Will told him. "I don't think it's for me."

"That's a shame." Though he seemed to have anticipated his answer, Will could tell that he wasn't prepared to accept it. "I hope your conversation with Brian hasn't turned you against the Society. He may have gone a little too far, I'm afraid. I wouldn't want you to go back to Salem with the wrong ideas about us."

Will stopped in the shadow of a spruce tree. He looked for the gate, but it was no longer visible. The little park seemed to have swallowed them. "I'm sorry, Adam, but who are you?" he asked. "What exactly do you do at the OS?"

"I make sure everything runs properly." He wasn't accustomed to answering questions. Will could tell he was humoring him.

"But Brian is president. And aren't you a little young to be running anything? What are you—twenty-two?"

Adam looked amused. "I'm older than I look. Brian is the public face of the Society. He oversees the day-to-day affairs. That's all. We're not sure how long we'll allow him to hold that position."

"We?" Will asked. "Who are 'we'?"

"I can't give you names. But think of the most powerful businessman in America today. Or the best-known actress. Or the most successful artist. The OS has never made its membership rolls public, so few people realize just how influential we really are."

"You forgot to mention the drug dealers and prostitutes."

"I'm sorry?"

"Your accounting system seems to have a few flaws. I've heard that when members get into debt they have to sell their souls—or their bodies—to get out again."

Adam Rosier smiled once more, this time unconvincingly. "May I ask how you know about these 'flaws' in our system?"

"Does it matter?" Will asked.

"Oh, I would say it matters a great deal to me," Adam replied, his cool never cracking. "Our members are bound by a strict confidentiality agreement. No one is allowed to speak of our system. The fact that you know about it represents a serious security breach. Who told you?"

"No one told me. I remembered the system from my last life," Will lied.

Rosier removed his glasses. For a moment his eyes seemed as flat and lusterless as pebbles. "I see where you're going, Will. There have always been members who choose to misuse the OS. But the Society wasn't set up to act as anyone's nanny. Until now we have always maintained that what members did with their accounts was their own business. That may have to change. Brian appears to be letting the corruption get out of control. We can't allow the abuses to prevent people like you from joining."

"Why do you care if I join?" Will asked. "I'm nobody."

Adam looked appalled by the suggestion. "That's not true, Will. You have remarkable gifts—talents you've never been able to use properly. I've seen what you can do. There's no doubt in my mind that with our help, you could become one of the most famous designers in the world."

"How do you know about my 'gifts'?"

"To tell you the truth, I've known you for quite some time," Adam confessed, looking pleased that the truth was finallly out. "In fact I was here in 1925 when you first joined the Society. We were friends."

"We were?" Will searched his few memories for anyone who might have fit the bill.

"I'm not surprised you don't remember me. I've always been rather forgettable," Adam explained with a touch of sadness in his voice. "But I'm afraid this all brings up a slightly unsavory subject that I must discuss with you."

"Jackson Montgomery?"

"Yes," Adam said. It was impossible to surprise him. "You see, I knew you both back then. Jackson was very charming and highly intelligent. But never once did I detect any evidence of a conscience within him. He used people for his own pleasure—without any regard for their feelings or their safety. No one could ever connect Dr. Strickland's death to Jackson, but I am not the only person who believes Jackson was responsible. He was very dangerous back then, Will. And he's just as dangerous today. The essence of a person doesn't change from one life to the next. If anything, some people get worse with time."

Rosier paused before deciding to continue. "I'll be honest with you, Will. I know that Jackson has returned to earth. I know who he is in this life."

"Who?" Will challenged him.

"Sonny Kiriakis."

Will gasped. He'd been sure he was bluffing. "How do you—"

"A picture of the two of you together was recently brought to my attention. I'm well aware of the connection you possess. I know you're drawn to him. But I feel I must warn you, Will. You're being drawn to the wrong person. He's just as dangerous for you as he is for everyone else. He set the fire that killed William. And he'll kill you too if you give him the chance."

"I don't believe it," Will said.

Adam gazed down at him as though he were something he cherished and hated to hurt. "Will you believe me when he's in jail?" he asked.

"Jail?" Will almost choked on the word.

"A woman in Los Angeles stepped forward yesterday. He witnessed Sonny and Christopher Moore fighting on the night Christopher disappeared. She claimed she saw Sonny knock Christopher down, and he didn't see Christopher get up again."

"The woman's lying. Christopher died of a drug overdose."

"No, Will. The autopsy results came in yesterday, too. He died of blunt-force trauma. Someone hit him in the head with a rock."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I told you. The Society has very powerful connections. We're always called first whenever there's news about any of our members."


End file.
